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Lf, 

Beatrix Rohan. 



By Mrs. Harriet Lewis. 

ILLUSTRATED BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 
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BEATRIX ROHAN. 


21 Novd. 


BY 



MRS. HARRIET LEWIS, 

>i 

Author of “ The Two Husbands” “ Her Double Life ” 11 Lady 
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Shadows ” “ Haunted Husband ” etc. 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS ■ 





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^6 




*T) 

^x „ u? 

V 


Copyright, 1875 and 1892, 

BY ROBERT BONNER’S SONS. 


(All rights reserved.) 





BEATRIX ROHAN. 


CHAPTER I. 


BEATRIX. 

the northern part of Belgium, in the prov- 
ince of Anvers, in the midst of a vast, 
dreary, and monotonous plain, dotted here 
and there with windmills and intersected 
with ditches, stands a grim and lonely old 
chateau. It is surrounded with wide, old- 
fashioned gardens and court-yards, and 
these are encircled by a brick wall, 
twelve feet in height. The mansion, 
which has'borne from time immemorial the 
name of the Chateau Valbeck, belongs to an ancient 
Flemish family, the present representative of which is 
a boy at school. His guardians, with a view to his 
enrichment, have leased the two hundred acres of flat 
lands, comprising the main portion of the estate, to a 
little agricultural colony, and wheat fields, cabbage- 
plots, and grazing pastures, divided by ditches, are 

[ 7 ] 



8 


Beatrix Rohan. 


spread on every hand, and present the appearance of 
an immense garden. The chateau, with its few acres 
of grounds, sometimes finds a tenant for a few months, 
but is more often unoccupied. 

Some two or three years ago, the agents of the young 
Count Valbeck, residing at Antwerp, received a call 
from an English ^gentleman, who desired to hire the 
chateau for one year. In lieu of giving references, he 
paid a year’s rent in advance. He then procured a 
staff of Flemish servants and himself accompanied 
them to his new residence, where he established them. 
The season was early spring. Already the plain 
around the dwelling was beginning to display patches 
of various shades of green ; already the flats were 
dotted with busy laborers ; and the wind-mills plied 
solemnly through the lengthening days. The new 
tenant found the dwelling chill and damp from long 
disuse. A great store of Hainault coal was laid in, and 
fires were kindled in all the rooms. The English 
gentleman remained several days, and then, having 
made the house habitable, he went away. 

A week later, in the dead of a dark and stormy night 
when the colonists were all housed and asleep in their 
hamlet at the farther edge of the estate, when even the 
servants were in bed, a close traveling carriage came 
swiftly along the narrow road threading the plain, and 
drew up before the massive gateway of the chateau. 
A servant, a stupid-looking Fleming, dismounted from 
the box and pulled the bell violently. He was obliged 
to repeat the summons many times before a light glim- 
mered through one of the windows of the chateau, and 
the old Fleming housekeeper put up the sash and 
demanded shrilly what was wanted. 

“ The master is come !” was the answer. “ Let 
us in !” 


Beatrix. 


9 


The housekeeper disappeared from view, and the 
light vanished with her. The English gentleman put 
his head out of the coach window and muttered impre- 
cations. The wind blew fiercely across the moor-like 
expanse, and the rain fell in solid sheets. At length, 
through the pitchy darkness, came the sound of an 
opening door, the clatter of wooden sabots upon the 
paved court-yard, the rattling of bolts, bars, and chains 
and then the great gates swung open, and a wide- 
mouthed, shock-headed stable-boy, with a lantern held 
high above his head, gave them admittance. 

The coach rattled into the yard and drew up in the 
close-covered porch. The house-door opened and the 
housekeeper, in petticoat and short-gown, and with a 
candle in her hand, appeared on the threshold. The 
English gentleman emerged from the carriage and 
helped out a lady, who ran up the steps and entered the 
wide hall. A second gentleman, evidently the son of 
the first, then alighted, and both — father and son — 
helped out a fourth passenger, a slender girl, heavily 
veiled, who appeared to be nearly helpless. 

“ My niece,” said the lady, as the housekeeper bent 
forward, her face full of curiosity. “ She is an invalid, 
and quite exhausted. Lead the way to her rooms !” 

The housekeeper, bearing the light, led the way 
up-stairs. The lady followed. After her came the two 
men with their limp burden. 

Two upper rooms had been prepared especially for 
the young lady — the “ invalid niece.” She was carried 
into one of them, and the housekeeper dismissed for the 
night. 

The next morning the gentleman who had hired the 
house, and whose name was Colonel Brand, made his 
appearance at the breakfast-table, accompanied by his 
wife. The son, Randal Brand, sauntered in a little later. 


IO 


Beatrix Rohan. 


The “ invalid niece ” did not make her appearance 
either then or thereafter, during the days that followed. 
No servant in the house ever saw her face. She never 
quitted her rooms, and it was found that the doors were 
always locked. Mrs. Brand waited upon her young 
charge personally, and no servant had even a chance to 
listen at the closed doors. 

At the end of a week, the girl’s existence had come to 
be regarded by all the servants, save the housekeeper 
and the coachman, as apocryphal. And even those two, 
who had looked upon her shrouded, helpless figure and 
veiled face, gave little thought to the mysterious girl. 
They were stolid Flemings, nearly devoid of curiosity, 
dull and stupid to excess, and they accepted the state of 
affairs in the household as if it had been the most 
natural in existence. They never inquired after the 
“ invalid niece they even avoided speaking among 
themselves of her after Mrs. Brand had once hinted that 
her young relative was “ not quite right in her mind.” 
Indeed, from the hour of that communication, they felt 
an awe and terror of the “ invalid,” as if she had been a 
beast of prey intent upon their destruction. 

The week was followed by other weeks, until a month 
had passed away. The April days, full of sunshine and 
warmth, had come. The level plain around the chateau 
was growing greener every day, and presented more 
than ever a garden-like aspect. And still, although a 
month had passed since her arrival, the mysterious girl 
had not crossed the threshold of her chamber. 

One night— a night very like to that on which the 
tenants of the Chateau Valbeck had taken possession 
of their domicil — a night wild with storm and wailing 
winds, the three Brands, father, mother and son, were 
gathered in the ancient drawing-room around the 
cavernous hearth, conversing together in cautious whis- 


Beatrix . 


l r 


pers, now and then involuntarily glancing over their 
shoulders as if they feared being overheard by some 
intruding servant. 

Up stairs, locked in her own rooms, the “invalid 
niece ” was walking her floor. 

Her apartments were two in number, connected by 
folding-doors. The inner room was bedchamber and 
bath in one. The outer room was wainscoted from 
floor to ceiling with oak, darkened by time to the hue 
of ebony. The effect was depressing and gloomy in the 
extreme, and was not to be counteracted by the thick 
crimson carpet on the floor, the easy-chair before the 
hearth, or the glowing coal-fire whose red lances of 
light half illumined the chamber. 

There were no books to be seen, no pictures, no sew- 
ing materials. Only the scanty supply of solid furni- 
ture and the ruddy fire redeemed the place from abso- 
lute bareness. 

The windows, however, were heavily curtained with 
faded damask. Behind the thick flowing folds were 
hidden bars of iron, that made the rooms a veritable 
prison. 

These apartments had once served as the nursery of 
the Valbeck children, and the window-gratings had 
been put in in their day to secure them against possible 
accidents. These stout bars served another purpose 
now. 

There was no taint of madness about the girl who 
paced her room with swift, impetuous tread — no trace 
of invalidism in her elastic movements, or in her coun- 
tenance. 

She was strikingly beautiful, with a pale, clear com- 
plexion, which was yet not palid. Her forehead was 
broad aud low, and from it was carelessly brushed away 
massive waves of tawny, burnished hair. Her eyes 


12 


Beatrix Rohan . 


were large, of darkest gray — almost black — deep and 
luminous, with slumbering fire in their dusky depths. 
She possessed a mouth of rare sweetness and tender- 
ness ; a slim, swaying figure, instinct with grace. Her 
strength of intellect, her beauty of soul, her loveliness 
of disposition, it was easy to see, equalled her remark- 
able personal attractions. 

She continued to move to and fro, with the grace of 
a leopardess, pausing at every turn to listen. 

“ Why don’t she come ?” she whispered. “ If she 
would only come and go ! I shall not dare make any 
attempt at escape until I am rid of her for the night.” 

She turned toward the window, but paused, hearing 
a muffled tread in the corridor without. Then a key 
grated in the lock, and Mrs. Brand entered. 

The lady bore a tray, on which was a crust of bread 
and a glass of water. She deposited her burden upon 
a small table close at hand, and stood just within the 
threshold, her hand upon the door, which she closed 
behind her. 

Then she contemplated the girl with keen, cold eyes, 
as if she sought to read her soul. 

Mrs. Brand was past middle age, and was a large, 
portly, arrogant woman, with flushed face, a row of 
gray puffs of hair on either side of her narrow fore- 
head, a long, hooked nose, and thin lips set firmly 
together in a most disagreeable and determined expres- 
sion. One might search in vain her haughty counten- 
ance for one gleam of womanly kindness. She was 
hard and selfish and unscrupulous to the very core of 
her being. 

“ What is your answer to-night, Beatrix ?” she asked, 
in a cold, monotonous voice, as if repeating a question 
she had asked a hundred times before. 

“ The same as this morning— as last night— as last 


Beatrix . 


13 


week— as every day since you brought me to this 
prison — no, no — a thousand times no /” declared the girl, 
her eyes flashing, her passionate young voice ringing 
out stern and decisive. 

Ordinarily, having heard that answer, the woman 
would have departed. But to-night she lingered. She 
had something more to say. 

“ Beatrix,” she said, slowly, a cat-like gleam in her 
dull eyes, “ you don’t know what you are fighting 
against. You are only a girl of twenty, ignorant of the 
world ; you have been petted and pampered all your 
life ; you are in most things a mere child. And we 
three are pitted against you — we three who know the 
world, who are bold and daring, who mean to subdue 
you and bend you to our will, or — ” 

“ Or kill me !” cried the girl, impulsively. 

The woman smiled — a strange, slow, repulsive smile 
The girl saw the smile and shuddered. 

“ The end must be submission — : or death !” said Mrs. 
Brand, after a brief pause. “ You have said it, 
Beatrix.” 

“ I will never submit — never ! I will die first !” 
exclaimed the girl, her face growing whiter, her gray 
eyes glowing with a steady, dusky light. Mrs. Brand 
— I will never call you aunt again — you shall triumph 
only in my death. And if I die from your persecutions 
my blood shall be upon your head for evermore. In 
the day when you and your husband shall stand at the 
bar of judgment, how shall you answer for your guard- 
ionship of the orphan niece committed to your care ? 
My father thought when, dying, he entrusted me to 
your charge — you, his only sister and surviving rela- 
tive — that he was securing my happiness. Ah, if he had 
only foreseen what should come !” 

“ But he did not foresee !” said Mrs. Brand, with a 


14 


Beatrix Rohan. 


sneering smile. *‘1 and my husband are the lawful 
guardians of your person, Beatrix Rohan, until you 
marry, or reach the age of twenty-one. You are not 
very likely to marry within the coming year, unless you 
marry my son. You have never entered society ; you 
have never had a lover. You certainly will not have 
opportunity to form acquaintances here. For a year 
longer you belong to us, and are completely under our 
control. You are buried alive in this grim old house. 
There is not a person on earth to seek you out or 
inquire after you. If you die here, there is no one to 
ask how you died. The trustees of your property never 
trouble their heads about you. You are utterly help- 
less. You have been shut up here a month — ” 

“ Yes,” interrupted the girl ; “and for a month I 
have heard no voice but yours. I have seen no face 
but yours during that time, save once or twice the 
mocking visage of your husband or son peering in at 
the door: You have heaped insults upon me. You 
have fed me upon bread and water. See how thin I am 
grown,” and she pushed back the sleeve from her arm. 
“ You have refused me books, newspapers, my needle 
even. You have been cruel, insulting, threatening ; 
you, my own aunt, the woman who promised my dying 
father to be a mother to me. But you have not con- 
quered me. That, thank God, you can never do !” 

The girl's eyes flashed with her mighty indignation ; 
her exquisite face glowed with aroused spirit. 

The woman regarded her for a few moments in 
silence, and then said in a smoother voice : 

“ You must be tired of this solitude, this prison fare, 
this dreary idleness, Beatrix. You must pine for your 
out-door walks, for freedom to come and go at will, for 
a sight of other faces. Down stairs there is light of 

candles, a piano, books, and presently dinner will be 
t 


Beatrix . 


15 


served — a dinner with soups and meat and wine. I 
know you are hungry and faint from want of food. 
Will you dine with us ? You have only to promise 
to marry your Cousin Randall in a week’s time — ” 

“ I will not promise !” 

“ You will marry him — or die /” said Mrs. Brand, in a 
hissing voice, and with eyes that now glittered evilly, 
while her florid face darkened. “ We are poor and in 
difficulties. We have luxurious tastes, a position in 
society, and no money. You are a great heiress. Your 
father inherited a fortune, and married a fortune. I 
had money of my own, but we spent that long ago. If 
you should die before you reach the age of twenty-one 
your fortune would come to me, your father’s sister, 
and his natural heir after yourself. I am persuaded, 
Beatrix, that you will die before you attain your major- 
ity — unless you become the wife of my son, Randal.” 

There was a depth of hideous meaning in the woman's 
voice, a frightful malignity in her eyes. It was as if for 
an instant the mask had been stripped from her wicked 
nature, and all her evil purposes were unvailed. 

The girl did not answer ; she could not. But the 
whiteness of her pure and noble face, the horror in her 
dilating eyes, attested that she comprehended the awful 
design of her kinswoman. 

“ To-morrow,” continued Mrs. Brand, still in that 
fierce, sibilant voice, “your food will be diminished 
one-third in quantity. When your fire goes out to-night, 
it will not be relighted. We begin now more rigorous 
measures, you see. We shall soon break your haughty 
spirit ! Hunger and damp and cold will inevitably 
bring you to your senses — or to your grave !" 

“ Life with Randal Brand would be a living death,” 
said the girl, slowly. “ From his boyhood it was his 
delight to torture all dumb creatures — to oppress the 


i6 


Beatrix Rohan. 


helpless — to injure the defenceless. I have seen him 
pull the wings from flies, in his savage love of inflicting 
pain — I have seen him kill my favorite kittens, and he 
laughed at my frantic struggles to save them, my plead- 
ings and distress — I have seen him beat his horse until 
the animal was goaded almost to madness. I have seen 
him throw down in the street, in pretended accident, 
but purposely, a poor crippled old man. It is not three 
years since he covered my dog with oil and set him on 
fire — I hear Fido’s howls of agony still ! He delighted 
to torture even me, a little helpless child. And this is 
the man you would force me to marry ! A man with 
the soul of a savage ! A man with the nature of a wolf ! 
I hate him — I loathe him ! I should die if I were to 
marry him. Better death by lingering torture before 
marriage than after !” 

“ You will change your mind in the course of another 
week !” exclaimed Mrs. Brand, with a disagreeable 
laugh. “ A crust of bread only for a day’s sustenance 
will soon weaken both your body and mind. I can see 
how you have changed within this past month. You 
have not half the physical strength you had a month 
ago. We had to drug you, from the moment we landed 
in Belgium, to keep you quiet. You will be quiet 
enough very soon. It is April weather outside, but 
these stone walls are full of winter damps and chills. 
Two days without a fire, and your body will be racked 
with pains. If already you are so weakened with 
. meagre and insufficient food, how long shall you be 
able to stand cold and hunger ? But enough for 
to-night To-morrow night, when I repeat my usual 
question, I shall expect a different answer.” 

Without another word, but with an evilly gloating 
expression, a smile of sinister triumph, Mrs. Brand 
withdrew, and the door shut and locked behind her. 












CHAPTER II. 

* 

LOST ! 

When the sound of her enemy’s steps in the corridor 
without had died away, the girl sank down upon her 
knees before the hearth and buried her face in the 
cushions of the easy-chair. So young — so delicately 
nurtured — beautiful as a vision — the heiress of immense 
wealth — what a fate was hers ! In the minutes that fol- 
lowed, her young soul besought God, with a bitter and 
passionate pleading, to befriend her, — to guard her, 
and to guide and to help her in the attempt she must 
make this very night to escape from the toils of her 
enemies. 

She arose at last, and ate the crust of bread which 
Mrs. Brand had brought to her, although her palate 
almost refused it. 

“ If I do not effect my escape this very night,” she 
said to herself, “ I must give over the project forever. 
This solitude and starvation are killing me ! I am 
weaker than I was yesterday ; I was weaker then than 
upon the day previous ! Mrs. Brand is right. I can- 
not bear this torture another week ! Surely, I shall 
succeed in loosening the bars to-night.” 

She crept to the door and listened. All was still as 

[i7l 



i8 


Beatrix Rohan. 


death outside. She hung a shawl upon the door-knob in 
a manner to cover the key-hole, and then stole to the 
yawning chimney and thrust one arm up into its black 
ascent. When she withdrew her hand she held in it a din- 
ner knife, its originally white handle blackened with soot, 
its blade worn and jagged and broken. She eyed the 
weapon lovingly. 

Upon the day subsequent to her arrival at the Chateau 
Valbeck, this knife, then whole, had been brought upon 
her tray with her dinner of meat. She had hidden the 
knife in the chimney, and not all the searches of Mrs. 
Brand had availed to find it. The woman had firmly 
concluded that she had not taken a knife to the pris- 
oner’s chamber, but she had reduced the girl’s diet 
immediately to a crust of bread and a glass of water, 
and had been careful never to convey even a spoon into 
the prisoner’s room. 

Beatrix, knife in hand, stole like a shadow to one of 
the windows, lifted the curtains, and climbed into the 
deep, high window seat. 

Night after night, with her waning strength, she had 
toiled at the stout window bars with that broken knife, 
while her enemies slept. She had loosened two bars in 
their sockets in the stout oaken frame. Could she remove 
them entirely to-night ? She went to work, with white 
face and lips set sternly, nerved by an awful desperation. 

Outside was life. Inside death lurked for her. She 
could not die ! She was so young ; life might be so 
sweet ; even a bare existence which should be unmen- 
aced by her enemies, had charms for her. She must 
escape ! 

Listening now and then, her heart seeming to stand 
still at every sound, she toiled desperately. At length, 
weak and trembling, she rested her forehead upon one 
of the cold prison bars. And now for the first time she 


Lost ! 


!9 


was conscious of the storm outside. How the wind 
blew ? How the rain fell ? It was a terrible night, the 
elements raging with all the fury of unloosed demons. 

“ An awful storm !” shuddered the girl. “ Yet I must 
escape to-night, if at all. The very storm will befriend 
me. The servants will be all housed. And any noise I 
may make in escaping will not be noticed.” 

She resumed her task. She had advanced her work 
upon the previous night to such a state of forwardness 
that she had thought a single half-hour’s labor would be 
sufficient to remove the two bars. But it was a full 
hour before the first bar was wrenched from its socket 
by her tensely-nerved hands, and a quarter of an hour 
afterwards before the second bar was removed. 

She sank down then weak and trembling. For many 
minutes she was deathly still. Her white face, upon 
which a single red gleam from the fire rested, looked as 
if she had fainted. 

After a little she stirred, gathered herself up feebly 
and crept down from the window-seat. She listened at 
the door. Then she went to her wardrobe, and took 
out an entire suit of warm clothing, and with quivering 
hands, proceeded to dress herself. A dark blue serge 
dress replaced the light cashmere gown she had been 
wearing. She put on also, a long sleeved and belted 
blue waterproof cloak, a large cape of similar material, 
a straw hat, and over that the hood of her cloak. 

Her movements were slow and cautious in the 
extreme. Fully attired for her perilous adventure, 
with high, thick boots protected by rubber overshoes, 
with gloves in her pocket, the girl next packed a small 
hand-bag with a change of linen, and with all her jew- 
elry, and tied it securely about her waist. 

Her purse was in her bosom, where for days she had 
carried it in order to insure its safety. It contained the 


20 


Beatrix Rohan . 


half-yearly allowance of money entire, as she had 
received it from the guardians of her estate six weeks 
before. 

She was now ready for her flight. She produced 
from its hiding-place in one of her trunks a stout rope 
which she had secretly made during her imprisonment. 
It had been formed out of her clothing, torn in strips 
and braided, and was strong enough to support her 
light weight. It was heavily knotted at intervals of a 
few inches. 

The girl picked up the fire-poker — a long bar of iron 
with a hooked end, which by long use and misuse bore 
a striking resemblance to a reaping-hook, and secured it 
to her person. 

“ I may need it in self-defence," she thought. “ It is 
a better weapon than the knife. It will serve me also 
in scaling the wall." 

She climbed again into the window-seat, and essayed 
to push up the window. It was secured by an old- 
fashioned spring-catch, and yielded to her pressure. 
She then opened with difficulty the heavy wooden shut- 
ters. The rain now beat in in torrents. 

Beatrix had taken the precaution to cover the fire, 
and all was dark behind as well as before her. She 
put out her head and tried to pierce the gloom with her 
great luminous eyes. 

Upon the day succeeding her arrival at the Chateau 
Valbeck, Mrs. Brand had rehearsed to her the loneliness 
of the place and its defences, including the twelve- foot 
brick wall, which enclosed the entire premises. 
Through a crevice in the blank wooden shutters cover- 
ing her windows, Beatrix had studied the defences of 
the place, day after day. It was well that she had done 
so. In this impenetrable gloom, eyesight was but a 
mockery. 


Lost / 


21 


“ I cannot see my hand before my face," she thought. 
“ How am I to get clear of all this peril ? I can only 
do my best. Surely God will help me !" 

She secured one end of the rope to the stout iron bars 
still remaining in the window-frame, and dropped the 
coil, slowly and cautiously, outside. Then, with a wild 
prayer to heaven, she crept out of the window, and 
clinging to the knotted rope, swung herself out into the 
black and howling space. 

It seemed to Beatrix that years and ages were passed 
in her descent from her prison to the ground. The wind 
tore at her swaying figure as with cruel hands. The 
rain bore down upon her in pelting torrents. The rope 
swayed with her light weight. Her hands clung des- 
perately to the great rough knots, and it seemed as if 
her weak wrists and weak muscles must give way and 
she be precipitated to the earth. And then she fancied 
that her enemies were waiting for her below — that 
every foot of descent brought her nearer to them — and 
her heart beat with great suffocating throbs, and the 
thick darkness covered her eyes. 

It was a terrible experience, but foot by foot she 
neared the solid earth. The rope swayed more and 
more with her weight, and suddenly gave way or 
became unfastened at the top, and she went heavily 
down. 

She had a fall of only two or three feet, but she fell 
prostrate, and so lay for some moments, the rope coil- 
ing around her like a serpent. Finding that she was 
unhurt, she arose, at last, to her feet, and stood quite 
still, endeavoring to look around her. 

She could see nothing. She must grope her way to 
the wall as best she could, for her keenest glances could 
not detect its outline. Remembering its height, and 
that the gates must be locked, she picked up her rope, 


22 


Beatrix Rohan . 


thinking that it might possibly prove of use in scaling 
the outer enclosure. 

Then, with one hand against the old stone chateau, 
she advanced through the gloom for some distance and 
abruptly turned the angle of the building. 

Here she paused and hesitated. 

A light streamed out from a window scarcely a foot 
further on. From her halting-place, the girl, by bend- 
ing forward, could look into the big old drawing-room. 
She did so. 

The old-fashioned apartment was long and low and 
very gloomy in its black wainscoting, its dark carpet, 
its faded brown chairs. Candles burned on the high 
mantelpiece. Before the cavernous hearth, as at an 
earlier hour of the same evening, the three Brands, 
father, mother and son, sat together, plotting in whis- 
pers against the liberty — the life even — of that crouch- 
ing girl outside in the storm. 

They were the nearest — the only — relatives of poor 
Beatrix. She feared and hated them all alike. Seeing 
them now, with the red glow of the fire-shine on their 
faces, she watched them with a sense of fascination. 

Mrs. Brand sat at one corner of the hearth, which was 
heaped with peat or other fuel in square brick shape, 
her cruel, arrogant face turned toward her husband, 
who sat opposite her. 

Colonel Brand presented a strong contrast to his 
portly wife. He was thin, with sharp, hatchet features, 
a low, retreating forehead, small, black, ferret eyes, a 
long, thin nose, and a heavy beard. There was some- 
thing decidedly sinister in his appearance. He seemed 
to be a man who would stop at nothing where his own 
interest was concerned. 

The son Randall Brand, sat between the two, his face 
half-turned toward the window. He was the worthy 


Lost / 


2 3 


son of his parents. He was not ill -looking, but there 
was that in his countenance that would have made a 
keen observer fear him. He was about five-and-twenty ; 
his face was large, round, smooth -shaven, and singu- 
larly yellow in tint ; his small eyes, set under overhang- 
ing brows, gleamed like serpents’ eyes ; his massive 
jaws were square and firmly set ; and his wide, heavy 
mouth, with hanging under-lip, had a cruel, greedy 
expression. He was not tall, but was heavily built. 
His appearance, to one versed in the study of human 
nature, was emphatically that of a dangerous man. 

This was the husband her relatives had chosen for 
poor, noble, innocent Beatrix ! This the husband whom 
they offered her as the only alternative of death ! 

The girl thrilled with her anger and repugnance. 
She trembled lest those hateful eyes should spy her in 
the blackness outside. She started back and began a 
hasty retreat across the paved court-yard, her eyes 
fixed upon the light streaming from the window. 

Before she had begun to speculate upon the position 
of the garden wall she had come upon it with some 
force. She had not yet put on her gloves, and her bare 
and bleeding hand came in contact with the bricks. 
That contact thrilled her. 

On the other side of the wall lay freedom and com- 
parative safety. If she could only reach it ! 

She moved along like a shadow until she came to 
the gate. It was locked, as she expected, and the key 
was gone. 

Nothing remained but to attempt to scale the en- 
closure. Remembering the bent poker, she attached it 
to the rope. 

While she halted there deliberating, the rope ladder 
in her hands, a sudden sound of terror smote upon her 
hearing — the barking of a watch-dog. 


24 


Beatrix Rohan . 


For a moment she stood paralyzed. The sound grew 
louder — nearer. 

The dog was bounding toward her through the storm 
and blackness ! 

No time for delay, for shrinking, for crouching iu the 
shadows. 

With a rapidity and quick-wittedness born of her 
desperate situation, she took the hook-like iron attached 
to her ladder in her hand and flung it up in the air. It 
fell back upon her. She threw it again — again — and 
yet again. 

The dog was coming nearer, his angry barks filling 
the air. Oh, heaven, must she be discovered now ? 
Again the bent iron went whizzing through the air. 
The hooked end caught in the top of the wall. Merci- 
ful Heaven, it was fast and firm ! The knotted rope 
hung straight and taut in her grasp. 

But how near the dog was now. Beatrix clutched 
the rope with frantic energy ; she climbed it, hand over 
hand, in an agony of terror ; she stood upon the summit 
of the wall. 

And now the dog was almost beneath her, and his 
clamor was arousing the inmates of the chateau. 

The girl crouched low on her perilous perch, and 
catching up the knotted rope, flung it upon the outward 
side of the enclosure. Then she descended it swiftly 
and gained the ground. 

And not too soon. 

As she sped over the narrow road, not knowing even 
that it was a road, and kept within its bounds by the low 
hedge that bordered it on either side, sounds of confu- 
sion came from the chateau. She fancied that the dog 
increased its noise, that doors opened and shut, and 
that voices were calling through the night. 

She was right. The barking of the watch-dog had 


Lost / 


25 


inspired the Brands with fear that some intruder was 
within the chateau grounds. No one could enter them 
clandestinely from without. Colonel Brand, with a 
sudden fear, sped up the stairs with the key to the 
prisoner’s room in his hand. He opened the door. 
The prisoner was flown. 

Then came swift pursuit. 

Beatrix, already some rods away, heard them coming. 
To be overtaken would be death, or worse than death. 
She sped on like a mad creature. Weak ? She had the 
strength of a lioness, it seemed. Faint from long 
fasting ? Ah ! every nerve was keenly strung, was 
tense and firm. Her feet seemed winged. Safety, life, 
before her. Death, or that worse fate behind her. She 
flew on in the storm, and after her came her enemies. 

Her factitious strength was fleeting. A mile of dis- 
tance, and she grew weak with startling suddenness. 
Her feet seemed weighted. She could run no longer. 
Her heart beat to suffocating. With a wild cry of 
despair she fell by the grassy roadside. 

And now through the gloom and lessening rain she 
heard plainly her pursuers. They had put horses to a 
wagon and were following her at hot speed. How 
swiftly they came ! Their hoarse voices seemed to stun 
her. The glare of their great red lanterns illumined 
the road on both sides of them as they hurried toward 
her ! A minute more and they would be upon her ! 

“ Oh, God !” the very soul of tortured Beatrix cried 
out in her agony. “ I am lost ! I am lost ! M 



CHAPTER III. 

A FACE AT THE WINDOW. 

There was no hope left in Beatrix Rohan, as, lying 
on the grassy roadside, her head uplifted a few inches 
from the ground, she heard the swift approach of her 
pursuers. To rise and resume her flight was impossible. 
Her strength was gone. To lie there and be taken cap- 
tive was to meet a fate worse than death. Her brain 
was in a whirl. Her heart deafened her with its loud 
beating. She could not think or reason. 

It was instinct then, mere animal instinct, that made 
her drag herself away on her hands and knees to the 
bordering hedge. She pushed her way through the 
bushes, and fell upon the other side, bleeding and torn, 
and the thorn -branches swept back into their former 
place and concealed her. 

She held her breath and lay still as death as her 
enemies swept by in their wagon. The big Belgian 
horse had a bell attached to his harness. Colonel Brand 
sat at one side of the vehicle, a big red lantern held 
high above his head, its light illumining the roadside, 
and Randall Brand sat upon the opposite side — the side 
nearest Beatrix — his yellow face and fierce eyes glowing 
with a look that was absolutely savage — while he, bear- 
ing a red lantern also, scanned the wayside with furious, 
devouring glances. 

[26J 



A Face at the Windozv. 


2 7 


" She can’t have gone much farther," Beatrix heard 
the smooth, hateful voice of Colonel Brand saying. 
“We shall overtake her before she reaches the cross- 
road. She shall pay dearly for this escapade — " 

The vehicle rolled on, and the voice of her guardian 
was drowned in the noise of the wheels and the roar of 
the storm. 

They had passed ! Beatrix lay in the shelter of the 
close hedge, and a long blank succeeded. She never 
knew whether she swooned into a complete unconscious- 
ness, or whether sleep suddenly descended upon her in 
her utter exhaustion and held her prisoner, but she was 
like one dead during the hour that followed. 

At last, however, the slim figure quivered in the 
darkness and the great luminous eyes opened once 
more. The girl, bewildered, trembling and frightened, 
rose to her elbow and listened. 

The storm had greatly abated. The wind had lost 
much of its fierceness. The rain still fell, but slowly, 
steadily. No sound of wagon -wheels on the rudely- 
paved road : no red glare of lanterns through the 
gloom : no calling of voices, penetrated to the girl's 
sharpened senses. 

She arose to her feet. Something of her strength 
had come back to her ; hope and courage were awaken- 
ing to new life within her. Perhaps she might escape 
after all ? 

“ I must be within two miles of the chateau," she 
said to herself, “ I must be far from here before morn- 
ing. Perhaps even now they are returning. They may 
suspect that I have hidden under the hedge and search 
for me. I dare not cross the fields on account of the 
ditches. I must keep to the road, and at the first sign 
of their approach push through the hedge again. I can 
hide in a ditch if the worst comes,” 


28 


Beatrix Rohan . 


She crept through the hedge again and found herself 
in the paved road. She could see afar off in the gloom 
the lights of the Chateau Valbeck, and knew how to 
direct her course. She plodded onward wearily, 
wrapped in her water-proof cloak and hood. In the 
course of fifteen minutes she had arrived at the cross- 
road of which Colonel Brand had spoken. 

Here she paused. 

It was plain that her pursuers had taken one of the 
three roads opening out before her, their hedged out- 
lines now just perceptible in the lightening gloom. 
Which road had they taken ? The girl bent down to 
the ground and strove to discover the trace of wheels, 
but she did not succeed. The road was paved, and the 
night was still very dark. 

“ I ought to take one of the roads they did not take," 
she thought. “ But how am I to tell ?" 

She breathed a prayer to heaven for guidance, and 
then boldly took the turn to the right, and hurried 
onward as fast as she was able. 

Hour after hour she tramped wearily onward. The 
rain ceased and the sky cleared. She encountered no 
one ; she heard no sounds of approach. But the long 
exertion after her month of fasting began to tell upon 
her. Her feet grew strangely heavy ; she could hardly 
lift them. It seemed to her that to lie down some- 
where, even if it were to die, would be a bliss approach- 
ing to that of heaven. 

Yet she staggered on. The wind swept the rain 
drops from her water-proof garments. The pure pale 
face, piteous now and wan and anxious, looked out of 
the dark -blue hood like a waning star. 

“ I must rest," she said to herself. “ I can go no 
farther. Ah, what is that ? A light ? Are they com- 
ing ?" 


A Face at the Window. 


2 9 


She stood still and stared before her. 

In the near distance a light was gleaming. It was a 
faint white light and shone steadily, as from a house- 
window. 

Beatrix summoned courage, and approached it. 

As she drew nearer, she saw that the light came 
from a peasant-farmer’s cottage. The thatched roof 
and casement windows became plainly visible. The 
yard-gates were wide open, and the girl leaned against 
their frame- work, and looked in. 

She saw a large farm-yard, with ricks of hay and 
straw, a range of sheds at its farther side, the cottage 
at its left, and finally in its centre a big farm-wagon, to 
which was attached a stout Flemish horse. The wagon 
seemed filled with boxes, loaded with farm-produce, 
which had been kept over the winter in order to com- 
mand spring prices. 

It was now about four o’clock in the morning. The 
pale gleams of approaching dawn began to lighten the 
eastern horizon. The farmer would soon be on his way 
to market. Beatrix glided into the farm-yard, and 
stole to the side of the wagon. 

The end-board had not been put up. The girl 
hesitated but a second, and then clambered up into the 
vehicle. The boxes were full to over-flowing. At the 
rear end was a loose bundle of straw, which the thrifty 
farmer had put in for the consumption of his horse 
while in town. Beatrix crept under this straw and hid 
herself completely. Then, trembling, and fearful of 
discovery, she waited. 

The moments of her waiting seemed ages. She held 
her breath in her suspense. Yet within ten minutes 
the exhaustion of her body had weakened even the 
anxiety of her mind, and again she slept — this time 


30 


Beatrix Rohan . 


as peacefully as a little child upon its mother’s 
bosom. 

She was vaguely conscious presently of a jarring 
motion as of jolting upon an ill-paved road, of the 
sound of a horse’s bell, of a man’s rough voice — but 
these sensations faded away, and she slept long and 
dreamlessly. 

She was awakened by the stopping of the wagon. 
The sudden cessation of the jolting was as effectual in 
arousing her as would have been a loud noise through 
the midst of stillness. She was broad awake in an 
instant, alert, on her guard, every sense sharpened. 

It was well that she had not stirred, for now the 
farmer’s voice, in rude patois, was heard. He was evi- 
dently speaking to some one who had overtaken him 
upon the road. Beatrix understood French thoroughly, 
but the peasant was speaking in the Flemish, or a cor- 
ruption of the Flemish tongue, and she could not under- 
stand a word he uttered. 

As he ceased speaking a voice replied to him — a voice 
which Beatrix recognized with a thrill of terror — the 
voice of Randall Brand ! 

The girl could not understand what her enemy was 
saying, for he too spoke in Flemish, a smattering of 
which he had acquired during his stay at the Chateau 
Valbeck, but the rising inflection of his voice indicated 
that he was asking a question. 

A colloquy between the two followed. The peasant 
was stolid, dull, ignorant, a mere digger of the soil. 
Brand flung him a coin, and the man’s voluble expres- 
sion of thanks showed that he was greedy of money. 
It was well that Beatrix had not followed her first brief 
impulse and thrown herself on his protection. 

Then Randall Brand rode up close to the wagon — he 
was on horseback — and peered over into the boxes of 


A Face at the Window. 


3i 


produce. It was now broad daylight, about eight 
o’clock in the morning. He could see that no one was 
hidden between the boxes. With the handle end of his 
riding-whip he carelessly stirred the straw in the end 
of the wagon. Beatrix lay motionless, a horrible paral- 
ysis seeming to enchain her, her very breathing sus- 
pended. 

“The man’s honest,” she heard Brand mutter. “ He 
has not seen the girl. She took one of the other roads 
— or she stopped at some peasant's cottage — or she hid 
herself in the fields or ditches — or I have passed her 
and she’s coming on now. Which is it ?” 

He deliberated. At length, after the lapse of an 
eternity, as it seemed to Beatrix, her enemy wheeled 
his horse and galloped back in the direction whence he 
had come. 

The farmer resumed his journey, his horse proceed- 
ing at a walk, its usual pace. 

Beatrix did not sleep again. The peasant amused 
himself by singing, in a loud, coarse voice, a song in 
his own language, and talked to his horse, and indulged 
in a soliloquy, and halted once or twice to gossip with a 
passing wagoner, but he did not once turn his attention 
to his own wagon. 

About the middle of the forenoon the wagon again 
halted — this time at one of the gates of the fortified 
city of Antwerp. The halt was brief, the wagon passed 
in, entering one of the long tree-bordered streets, and 
Beatrix had not yet been discovered ! 

A brief further progress brought the farmer into a 
small, paved square, adorned with a fountain in its 
center, and surrounded with picturesque old houses 
which presented their gable ends to the street. Among 
these houses, with the sign-board swinging in the wind, 
was a quaint old inn. There was a paved wagon-road 


3 2 


Beatrix Rohan . 


leading through the building at one side to a stable- 
yard at the back. The farmer made his way to this 
yard and there came to a final halt. 

Then ensued a chattering in Flemish between the 
wagoner and the stable-boy, and the two walked away 
together, entering the stable. 

Beatrix waited a few minutes and then cautiously 
removing the smothering straw, peeped over the wag- 
on-box. 

The yard was empty. A maid, in a high white 
cap, was entering the kitchen, the door of which she 
closed behind her. No one was to be seen in the open 
stable. Now was the girl’s time. She slipped out at 
the back of the wagon and glided to the open gate, and 
the next moment had entered the square, her move- 
ments unseen and unsuspected by the inn-people. 

vShe dropped her hood from her hat as she walked 
along, and pulled the latter over her forehead — to screen 
her face. She had a veil in her traveling-bag, and she 
tied it on. Her cloak was wrinkled and bits of straw 
clung to it. She brushed them off as best she could 
with her hands, and turned into the nearest street. 

She was very tired, weak, and hungry. Her first 
necessity was a good breakfast. She traversed several 
streets, casting frequent glances backward, but she was 
not pursued. She discovered no eating-house, but in a 
very narrow, quiet street, bordered with tall, gabled 
houses, she came upon a sleepy-looking inn, which 
appeared very quiet and respectable — the very place in 
which a young lady without escort might find comfort 
and shelter. 

Beatrix entered the inn-parlor which fronted the 
street. A woman was in attendance. The young 
fugitive addressed her in the French language, asking 
for a room and breakfast. 


A Face at the Window . 


33 


Had the girl applied at one of the hotels frequented 
by foreigners, her application might have been rejected 
with disdain. Young women traveling ^one without 
escort or attendants are regarded by the Continental 
Boniface, as by his English confrere, with marked sus- 
picion. But this woman contented herself with regard- 
ing the girl very sharply, and replied in French: 

“We can give you what you require, Mademoiselle ; 
but, pardon, you are alone ?” 

“ I am alone,” said Beatrix, uncovering her face, and 
speaking with the gentle dignity of the true lady. 

The beautiful sad countenance, so childlike in its 
loveliness, so pure in all its features, and the courteous 
manner, impressed the woman. 

“Come this way, Mademoiselle,” she said. “The 
hotel is at Mademoiselle’s disposal.” 

She conducted the guest to an upper room overlook- 
ing the street. 

“ I should like a fire,” said Beatrix ; “ and I would 
like my breakfast in my room.” 

The woman, a Fleming, large, stolid of countenance, 
like so many of the lower class of her race, withdrew. 

Beatrix sank down in the nearest chair. 

The room was large, having three windows and a fire- 
place. The floor was uncarpeted. A bed stood in an 
alcove. A door led into an adjoining room, and over 
this door was a small transom window, with two narrow 
panes of glass into it. 

Beatrix noticed these details before a boy came up 
with a bucket of coal and other materials for a fire. A 
ruddy blaze was soon filling the chimney-place, and the 
pleasant heat began to penetrate the chilliness of the 
apartment. 

The girl removed her cloak and hat and boots, and 
put up her travel-worn feet upon the fender. Her 


34 


Beatrix Rohan . 


breakfast of coffee, rolls, omelet, and hot beefsteak — a 
special order — were presently brought up to her. On 
finding herself alone, she ate ravenously. After the 
breakfast-things had been removed she locked her door 
securely, and went to bed. 

As may be supposed, she slept nearly all day. Late 
in the afternoon she awakened, and found her fire grow- 
ing low and her room chill. She arose, took a bath 
with the resources at her command and dressed herself. 
Her garments showed no trace of the previous night’s 
exposure to the storm. Then she caused her fire to' be 
replenished and ordered a good dinner. 

After the meal had been served, and she was warmed, 
strengthened and refreshed, she sat down before her 
ruddy hearth and gravely pondered her situation. 

What was she now to do ? Where was she to go ? 

She was an orphan, without relatives other than the 
Brands. She had been educated at a fashionable school 
near London during the earlier part of her life. At the 
age of fourteen she had been transferred to a Paris 
pensionnat whence she had been withdrawn a year pre- 
vious to her appearance at the Chateau Valbeck. 
During the past year she had traveled over the Conti- 
nent with her relatives, not staying long in any one 
place. The Brands had artfully contrived that during 
that period she should not make a single friend. 

She could not go to her old schools — the Brands, not 
finding her elsewhere, would surely seek her there. 
She knew no one else to whom she could apply. 

Stay ! There were the trustees of her estate. They 
lived in London. They would surely protect the person 
of the heiress whose fortune they guarded. Beatrix 
remembered vaguely having heard of an orphan who 
was oppressed by her guardian, and who had gone before 
some court and successfully petitioned for a new guard- 


A Face at the Windozv. 


35 


ian. Could she not do the same ? Would not the trustees 
of her property aid her in so doing ? 

She believed that they would. 

The question was now reduced to the simple matter 
of reaching those trustees. 

They were in London ; she was at Antwerp. She 
could not telegraph or write to them the story of her 
wrongs. She must see them in person. Without 
doubt, the Brands had telegraphed to Ostend to have 
her detained should she seek to embark from that port. 
They would doubtless intercept her at any of the Hol- 
land ports. 

She decided to continue her flight to England through 
France. 

It was quite possible, even probable, that the Brands 
were even now seeking her throughout Antwerp. It 
would not be safe for her to go boldly to the railway- 
station at the time of the departure of eastbound-trains. 
To be overtaken by the Brands before she could obtain 
the protection of her trustees would involve her 
destruction. The Brands were her legal protectors ; 
they stood to her in place of her parents ; they were of 
unblemished reputation, and anything they might say 
of her would be believed in preference to her state- 
ments. 

“ I must get away from Antwerp to-night,” she 
decided. “ I will go to Calais by way of Brussels. I 
think the Brands will not suspect me of so much caution 
and forethought and will not look for me in a Brussels- 
bound train.” 

She had planned her course. Nothing remained but 
to carry her plan into action. 

Her bill must be paid at the hotel, and a carriage 
ordered to convey her to the station. She locked her 
door, drew down the shade of the nearest window, and 


36 


Beatrix Rohan . 


took out her purse from her bosom, and emptied its 
contents into her lap. 

She had an allowance by her father’s will, for her 
own personal use, quite separate from the sum allowed 
her guardian for her board and extraneous expenses, 
and this allowance since her nineteenth birthday had 
been eight hundred pounds a year. She had half this 
sum in her purse — four hundred pounds in gold and 
Bank of England notes. 

A year hence, when she should have attained her 
majority, she would enter into the enjoyment of a 
yearly income of ten thousand pounds a year. But 
now this sum in her possession looked to her like vast 
wealth. 

It lay all spread out upon her dress, having the 
appearance of a much larger sum than it was, and 
Beatrix was counting it over, preparatory to disposing 
of it in portions about her person, when a noise startled 
her. 

She raised her eyes and beheld a sight that transfixed 
her with horror. 

Against the transom-window over the door that com- 
municated with the adjoining room, was pressed closely 
a man’s face — a greedy, murderous, unknown visage, 
with ugly, sinister eyes fixed upon her money ! 



CHAPTER IV. 

TRANSFORMATION. 

In a first-class compartment of a mail-train on the 
South-Eastern railway, two women were seated. 

They were on their way to London from Calcutta, 
having journeyed from India by the overland route. 

They were evidently mistress and maid. 

The former was Miss Bermyngham, the only child 
and heiress of the late Miles Bermyngham, the great 
Calcutta merchant, who had died one year previous to 
the opening date of our story. 

It had been the wish of her father that Miss Bermyng- 
ham should return to England upon his decease, but, 
her health being imperfect, and feeling disinclined to 
undertake the long, hard journey, she had remained at 
Calcutta nearly a twelvemonth. Her property had 
been transferred to England, and she had at last 
yielded to the urgent letters of friends whom she had 
not seen for years, and was returning to her native land 
to spend the remainder of her life. 

She was about twenty-three years of age, small, and 
of insignificant appearance, with a thin, querulous 
freckled face, with light blue eyes, and with thin 
flaxen hair, which was drawn plainly away from her 

[37] 


38 


Beatrix Rohan, 


contracted forehead. She looked sickly, fretful, and 
miserable. She had hurried through from Marseilles 
without stopping, and appeared to be well-nigh 
exhausted. 

She was dressed in a costume of brown velveteen, 
and was wrapped in an exquisite Indian cashmere 
shawl, which was gathered closely about her throat. 
Her hands were ungloved, and her fingers were loaded 
with magnificent diamond rings of immense value. 

Miss Bermyngham had been educated by competent 
governesses : had been petted and spoiled all her life : 
had always been used to luxury and the command of a 
retinue of servants, and yet, singularly enough, but for 
her display of wealth in her personal belongings — so 
insignificant was her personal appearance — one might 
have taken her for the maid. 

And as readily might the maid have been taken by a 
casual observer as the mistress. 

Miss Bermyngham had departed from India with two 
attendants, an elderly man and this young woman. 
The man had been her father’s confidential clerk and 
her own trusted friend and adviser. He had been 
taken ill upon the voyage and had died before the 
arrival of the vessel at Suez. After his death, her 
maid had become a tower of strength to the heiress. 
She trusted her implicitly, and relied upon her as weak- 
minded people rely upon those with strong resolute 
wills. The maid was called Agatha Walden. She had 
been in the service of Miss Bermyngham only a week 
before the latter had sailed for England, and had been 
hired especially to attend the young lady during the 
voyage. 

She was about the same age as her mistress, and a 
blonde also, but a blonde after a singular type. Her 
complexion was very fair, a combination of milk and 


Transformation. 


39 


roses, such a complexion as is produced by the 
enameler’s art. Her eyes were jet black ; her hair of a 
golden-red hue of that peculiar vivid tint which belongs 
to black hair, after it has been submitted to a bath of 
golden dyes. She also was brief of stature and small 
of figure, but she was so delicately formed as to merit 
the description of fairy-like. She was soft, dainty and 
caressing, full of pretty, purring ways, and seemed as 
innocent as a white kitten. Her heavy lids had a trick 
of drooping themselves over the black eyes in a 
modest, shy fashion, and one seldom encountered a 
level glance from pretty Miss Agatha. 

The remaining seats in the compartment were 
littered with articles of travel, a costly dressing-bag 
with gold and ivory mountings, smelling-bottles, books, 
traveling-rugs, and a Bradshaw’s guide. Miss Ber- 
myngham held a little gold flacon to her nostrils, and 
inhaled the pungent odors it contained, while she 
looked fretfully out of the window. 

“ And this is England ?” she said, discontentedly. “ It 
it hideous weather for April. The country looks 
sodden and damp, and so does the sky. I'm sorry I 
left India, Agatha. Fifteen years in India have 
spoiled me for this climate. And I wish I had taken 
your advice,” she added, “ and remained in Paris for a 
week. To arrive at a London hotel in such weather as 
this and find no one to welcome me is very unpleasant.” 

“ With plenty of money any place can be made 
delightful,” said the maid, in her soft, purring voice. 
“ You will have fires in your rooms, my lady, and a 
good dinner, and presently your spirits will revive. And 
you will telegraph to Lady Folliott, who will come to 
you to-morrow — ” 

She paused, as Miss Bermyngham’s face became 
suddenly overspread with a pale blue tint even to the 


40 


Beatrix Rohan . 


lips, and sprang up, snatching from the open dressing- 
bag a bottle of medicine, of which she hastened to 
administer a few drops. 

Miss Bermyngham slowly revived, regaining some- 
thing of her usual complexion. 

“ I feel better,” she said, presently. “ Sit down, 
Agatha. I think these paroxysms of pain grow more 
severe every time. I thought I was dying just now.” 

“ You frightened me almost out of my senses, my 
lady,” said the maid. “You must see one of the 
great English physicians before you leave London.” 

“ I intend to, but sometimes 1 think no physician 
can help me,” said the heiress, wearily. “ I have 
inherited my father’s heart-disease. I shall go off just 
as he did, suddenly and without warning. I was a fool 
to undertake this wearisome journey. I am not near 
so well as I was when I left Calcutta. What if I should 
die soon, Agatha ? The very thought of death fills me 
with horror.” 

“ But you will not die !” said Agatha, soothingly. 
“ You will live many years, my lady, and carry out 
your aunt's plans for you, and be a queen in society 
and have a vast estate, and be courted, and worshiped, 
and admired. You have come to England because 
your aunt, Lady Folliott, urged you to come, and 
because your home is naturally with her now that your 
father no longer lives. You will marry your cousin, 
Sir Lionel Charlton, and become Lady Charlton — ” 

A faint smile curved the lips of the heiress. 

“ I wonder if my aunt’s scheme will really be ful- 
filled,” she said, “ and if my cousin, Lionel, will fall in 
love with me. I wonder if my looks will equal his 
expectations. Ah ! that pain again. Agatha, if I 
should die — ” 

“ You will not die !” repeated the maid. “ If any- 


Transformation . 


4i 


thing were to happen to you, my lady, what would 
become of me ?” 

Miss Bermyngham’s gaze rested upon the fair, milk- 
white face of her attendant, and she said after a little : 

“ Do you know that you puzzle me strangely, 
Agatha ? You have the manners and speech of an edu- 
cated lady — and yet you are a servant. You have 
never told me anything about yourself, except that you 
were born in England. I fancy there is some mystery 
in your life — ” 

“ There is no mystery," declared Agatha, hastily, “ I 
am just what I seem, a poor, friendless girl. I went 
out to India as a nursery governess, and am glad to 
return in any capacity. That is all.” 

There was an odd alarm apparent for a moment in 
the maid’s eyes, a tightly-drawn expression about her 
mouth, that contradicted her words. Miss Bermyng- 
ham was not keen-sighted, else she would have seen 
that her maid had lied to her, and that pretty Agatha’s 
life held some dark and hidden mystery in her past. 

The heiress lay back upon the seat, and her servant 
covered her with shawls. 

“ I wish I had telegraphed to my aunt from Paris,’’ 
said Miss Bermyngham, after a brief silence, in a 
changed voice. “ She will not expect me for a week 
yet, and I feel as if I needed her now. Agatha this 
pain grows terrible — ’ 

She threw off the shawls and struggled to a sitting 
position, gasping for breath. Again that livid blue tint 
overspread her face. Agatha was filled with terror. 

“ Miss Bermyngham— Miss Nerea ?” she exclaimed. 
“ What shall we do ? Oh, you are very ill—” 

The heiress did not seem to hear her. A long lance 
of red-hot pain seemed to pierce her heart. It was 
followed by another, yet another ! She tried to speak, 


42 


Beatrix Rohan . 


a froth gathered about her shriveled lips, a sudden 
inarticulate cry broke from her — and she fell back- 
wards in an awful silence. 

Agatha sprang to her aid ; she bathed her face with 
aromatic vinegar ; she called to her to speak ; but all 
in vain. As suddenly and terribly as the event had 
happened, there was no mistake about it. Miss Ber- 
myngham was dead ! 

The conviction slowly forced its way to Agatha’s 
brain. She staggered backward to her seat and stared 
at the ghastly face opposite her in shivering horror. 

And the train steamed on swiftly and the roar of the 
wheels filled the maid’s ears with a roar like that of 
thunder. 

“Dead!” said Agatha, hoarsely. “Dead! Oh, no, 
not dead ! So rich, so young, with a life full of prom- 
ise stretching out before her — dead / If it had been I 
who had died — but people such as I do not die. They 
drag out their wretched lives until they grow old. 
Dead! What is to become of me ? What is to become 
of me ?” 

That question absorbed all her thoughts. She stared 
at the dead face with a terrible fascination, and as she 
stared, a strange thought grew within her, took shape, 
and became a purpose. 

“ Why not ?” she asked herself, in a whisper. “ No 
one will be harmed, and I shall be benefited. Why 
not ?” 

She looked out of the windows with a stealthy, side- 
long glance. And then she crept toward the stiffening 
figure of her dead mistress, and took from it the rich 
India shawl. Then, with averted eyes and a tremulous 
motion of her entire figure, she drew off the diamond 
rings from Miss Bermyngham’s fingers and thrust them 
upon her own. 


Transformation . 


43 


She wore a neat black silk dress. With a shudder, 
she draped the cashmere shawl around her, and flung 
over the dead young lady her own quiet Paisley wrap. 

And then she began to gather up the articles scattered 
about, and to pack them into portable shape. It was 
singular how she kept her gaze averted from the dead 
woman's face. And when she had finished her task she 
crept into a farther corner of the compartment and 
crouched there, her gaze wandering, in spite of herself, 
to that stiffening figure. 

“ It is only an exchange of identity, and it can never 
harm her," she thought. “ As for me, I lay aside the 
assumed name and the disguise of Agatha Walden for 
the name and place of the rich Miss Bermyngham. 
The mystery of my life will be safely hidden now. 
Thanks to her confidences, I shall play my part well. 
As Miss Bermyngham, I shall be safe." 

She did not stir from her corner nor from her crouch- 
ing position, until the train steamed into the London 
Bridge Station and the guard unlocked her door. 

Then she sprang out, white and trembling, with a 
face full of innocent appealing, crying shrilly : 

“ My maid is ill — I think she is dying ! What shall I 
do ? Call a doctor ! My poor servant i Is she dead ?" 



CHAPTER V. 

THE WAY CLEARED. 

The terror and distress of the counterfeit Miss 
Bermyngham, partly genuine and partly affected, 
brought the guard to her upon the instant. The sta- 
tion-master and a few curious passengers thronged 
around. 

“ She is not dead ! My poor Agatha is not dead !” 
cried the shrill, childish voice of the pretended heiress. 
“ Can nothing be done for her ? Will no one help 
her ?” 

The guard stepped into the coach and bent over the 
stiffening figure and peered into the ghastly face of the 
real Miss Bermyngham. 

“ I think she is not dead. It’s a faint or something,” 
he exclaimed. “Make way there !” 

The impostor’s eyes filled with an awful terror. Not 
dead ? She reeled, and would have fallen, but that the 
station-master put out an arm to support her. 

The guard lifted the lady’s figure in his arms, strode 
through the little crowd, and hurried to the waiting- 
room. Here he deposited his burden upon a bench. 

The usurper, faint and tottering, was assisted into 
the waiting-room by the station-master. 

A guard brought in Miss Bermvngham's traveling 
effects, and placed them beside Agatha. With a little 
[ 44 ] 


The Way Cleared . 


45 


gasp, the maid touched the heavy dressing-bag. In it 
were her lady’s splendid jewels and well-filled pocket- 
book. 

In a very brief space of time, which seemed an age to 
the impostor — so full was it of breathless suspense, of 
shivering agony of expectation — a jjdoctor was brought 
into the room. He was conducted to the side of the 
unfortunate lady. 

Agatha was tempted to make her escape with the 
treasure in her hand. If Miss Bermyngham were not 
dead ! If she were to revive and denounce her ! A 
cold sweat burst through the white enamel on the 
young woman’s forehead. She took a single tottering 
step toward the door. 

And just then the doctor’s calm, professional voice 
penetrated to her hearing. 

“ She is quite dead,” he said. “ She must have died 
of heart disease. Who is she ?” 

“ A lady’s maid,” answered the station-master. “ That 
is her mistress yonder.” 

With an effort to command herself that was almost 
superhuman, the false heiress subdued her horrible 
fears, her deadly sickness at heart, and turned, approach- 
ing the doctor. 

There remained the traces of a mighty agitation in 
her face and manner. Her black eyes were dilated. 
She looked like a frightened child, and her features 
were full of innocent appealing, and her voice quivered 
as she asked : 

“ Is she dead, Doctor ? Is she really dead ?” 

“ Yes, madame,” answered the doctor, gravely. “ She 
must have been dead an hour.” 

“ And I thought she had only fainted. Oh ! I was so 
frightened. My poor girl ! It was so sudden. Yet she 
was saying only a few minutes before, that she had a 


4 6 


Beatrix Rohan . 


frightful pain at her heart. It has been an awful shock 
to me.” 

“ What was her name ?” asked the doctor. 

“ Agatha Walden,” answered the false Miss Bermyng- 
ham, her voice fluttering. “ I am Miss Bermyngham, 
on my way from Calcutta to my friends in England. I 
engaged poor Agatha to attend me on the voyage as my 
maid. I expect my aunt, Lady Folliott, to meet me 
to-morrow at the Langham Hotel. This is a sad cloud 
to fall upon me at the very moment of my arrival.” 

“ It is indeed !” said the doctor, sympathizingly, duly 
impressed with Agatha’s social position and high con- 
nections. “ I think I can take charge of your servant’s 
remains and funeral, Miss Bermyngham, if you desire 
to be relieved of all care and anxiety in the matter. I 
do not see that you need be troubled at all !” 

“Oh, thanks, thanks!” cried Agatha, in her most 
gushing, cooing voice. “ I am afraid of death, Doctor. 
And I do so long to be with my dear aunt again. The 
girl was nothing to me, but she was a faithful servant, 
a good, honest creature, and I should like her to be 
decently buried — not in a pauper’s grave, you know. 
She had no relatives — no friends. I know nothing 
whatever about her, except that her name is Agatha 
Walden. I took her upon written references, and have 
forgotten the names attached to them. There is no one 
to notify of her death !” 

“ And this is all you know about her, Miss Bermyng- 
ham ?” 

“ All !” said Agatha. “ She has a carpet-sack in the 
luggage-van. That had better be given to some poor 
person. She was to serve me upon the voyage without 
pay, for her passage, you know. Of course I shall pay 
her funeral expenses !” 

She opened the dressing-bag with fluttering hands, 


The Way Cleared. 


47 


and extracted from it the plump pocket-book of her 
dead mistress. Out of its abundant contents she 
bestowed a ten-pound note upon the physician as a fee, 
and gave him twice that amount to defray the funeral 
expenses of Miss Bermyngham. She gave the station- 
master and the guards a sovereign each, and requested 
one of the latter to call a cab for her. 

“ There will be a coroner’s inquest,” observed the 
doctor, “ but that is a mere formality. Most probably 
you will not be called upon to testify, madame, the death 
being plainly the result of disease, yet I am obliged to 
demand your address.” 

Agatha's face expressed her alarm. 

“ I hope you won’t have to call upon me !” she 
exclaimed. “ I should be so terrified.” 

The doctor assured her that, in all probability, she 
would not even be mentioned in the case other than 
casually. 

The girl sought in the dressing-bag for the card-case 
of her late mistress, and found it. She took a card 
from it and banded it to the physician. Upon it, in 
delicate letters was inscribed the name —Nerea Bermyng- 
ham . 

“ Write under the name my address at the Langham 
Hotel,” said the usurper. “ I shall remain at the 
Langham a day or two before proceeding to Folliott 
Court.” 

The physician inclined his head deeply. The guard 
returned, announcing that the cab waited. There was 
no reason why the girl should remain longer at the 
station, and the official gathered up her effects, after a 
word to the doctor. Agatha, drew closer around her 
the sumptuous shawl of her dead mistress. 

“ Would you like to take a last look at your servant ?” 
asked the medical man 


48 


Beatrix Rohan. 


Agatha shivered. 

“ No, no !” she said, hurriedly. “ I could not bear it. 
I — I have had such a shock—” 

There were certainly tears in her eyes ; her red lips 
quivered like a grieved child’s. 

“ Poor little tender heart !” thought the doctor. “ It 
is fortunate that she’s an heiress. She could never 
cope with the rude world.” 

Yet, in spite of herself, Agatha shot a strange, 
stealthy, sidelong glance out of her black eyes at the 
ghastly dead face of Miss Bermyngham. It seemed to 
her guilty soul that those half-closed eyes regarded her 
with a look of menace and awful accusing. She could 
scarcely repress the shriek that arose to her lips. 
Never, so long as she might live, could the woman who 
had usurped the place of Nerea Bermyngham forget 
that picture of her dead and wronged mistress. 

Agatha drew down her vail over her face, and fol- 
lowed the guard with a faltering tread. 

The dead Nerea Bermyngham lay in the public 
waiting-room, a subject for a coroner’s inquest, forsaken, 
unhonored, neglected, to be presently interred by 
strangers in a grave suitable for the poor and unknown 
servant. This the fate of the petted heiress — the girl 
who had come to England with the expectation of 
making a grand marriage and becoming a queen in 
society ! 

And the false Nerea Bermyngham, the treacherous 
maid, with her odd blonde beauty and soft, cooing 
ways, went out in her stolen garb and stolen honors to 
enjoy the wealth and position she had so basely 
usurped ! 

“ I have only served her as she would have served 
me, if it had been I who died,” thought the impostor. 
“ I shall not be troubled about the inquest or the 


The Way Cleared. 


49 


funeral. Who could ever have forseen this turn in my 
fortunes ? At one swift bound, I exchange poverty, 
toil, an existence menaced with the pursuit of enemies 
for a life of ease, splendor and happiness. It is Agatha 
Walden who lies dead in yonder waiting-room. Sup- 
pose they tracked me in Calcutta and discovered my 
assumption of the name and character of Agatha Wal- 
den, lady’s maid ! Suppose they track me to England ? 
At London Bridge Station their search will end. 
Agatha Walden lies dead in yonder waiting-room and 
will be buried to-morrrow in a nameless grave.” 

Her vail hid from the station-men, who regarded her 
curiously as she passed them, the exultant smile that 
flickered upon her lips. 

She guard assisted her into the cab, and placed the 
dressing-bag and other articles upon the opposite seat. 
Agatha had forgotten Miss Bermyngham's dozen 
trunks, and now ordered these to be sent to the Lang- 
ham Hotel, bestowing an additional sovereign upon the 
guard, with the memoranda of her luggage. She was 
very lavish with Miss Bermyngham's money. Her 
own carpet-sack was dismissed from her thoughts. 

The order was given to the cabman, and the vehicle 
rolled away. 

Agatha leaned back, exultant, her very soul glowing 
with sinister delight. 

Not a doubt obtruded itself upon her as to her 
ability to enact the character she had assumed. She 
had known Miss Bermyngham very intimately. She 
knew that the dead heiress had not seen her English 
friends for fifteen years. She knew also that Miss Ber- 
myngham, with morbid sense of her insignificant 
appearance, had not allowed her face to be photo- 
graphed since her childhood. There was not a portrait 
of the dead lady in existence. 


50 


Beatrix Rohan. 


Agatha was thoroughly conversant with the private 
history of her dead mistress, who had been fond of 
talking by the hour of her fine old family, ancient 
descent, and aristocratic connections. She had no fear 
of betraying herself at any point by her ignorance of 
family matters. 

And then she had in Miss Bermyngham’s trunks 
packets of letters, diaries, valuable papers of various 
sorts, all of which would be of indescribable value to 
her. 

These she meant to study without loss of time, 
before seeing even Lady Folliott. 

“ I cannot be too guarded," thought the girl. “ Have 
I left behind me any loophole for suspicion to enter ? 
Have I left unguarded any point of my secret ? My 
carpet -sack which I have abandoned as her property — 
there’s nothing in that — nothing whatever, except a 
few changes of coarse under-garments, which I bought 
ready-made in Calcutta, and a serge gown. Not a 
scrap of written paper, not a fragment of diary — only 
fools keep diaries ! — not a thing other than those I have 
named. So far all is safe. Now, in regard to Miss 
Bermyngham herself !" 

She reflected anxiously, reviewing in her own mind 
every article of wearing apparel upon the person of her 
dead mistress. 

The result was a redoubled satisfaction and delight. 

Miss Bermyngham had boxes of finest linen under- 
wear, trimmed with rich, real laces and daintiest 
embroideries, and marked with monogram, but these 
were packed safely away. For the voyage, the heiress 
had prepared a special outfit— as is the custom of most 
Englishwomen— of plainest unmarked, untrimmed 
linen, which might be worn and then thrown away. 
There was nothing whatever on her person that might 


At Hand / 


5i 


not have been worn by her maid, now that the latter 
had stripped from her her shawl and jewels. 

“ Everything is safe,” the usurper assured herself. 
“ Absolutely safe ! I will rest to-night. To-morrow I 
will do a little shopping, study Miss Bermyngham’s 
papers, engage a French maid — and, last of all, tele- 
graph to Lady Folliott of my arrival. I shall follow 
out the course Miss Bermyngham had marked for her- 
self,” and Agatha’s eyes glittered. “I shall dress 
splendidly ; I shall enter upon the full enjoyment of 
the Bermyngham wealth ; I shall fawn upon and 
flatter Lady Folliott and make her pet and adore me ; I 
shall win my way into society and be a queen ; and 
finally,” and Agatha’s face hardened, and a grim, reso- 
lute expression darkened 'her pretty face, “ I shall 
marry her cousin, Sir Lionel Charlton, and become 
Lady Charlton of Charlton Place. Ah, I have stepped 
into a brilliant destiny !” 


CHAPTER VI. 

AT HAND ! 

The sight of that evil visage above the transom- win- 
dow of her door held Beatrix Rohan motionless, as if 
stricken with paralysis. Her sudden immovability 
aroused the watcher. His greedy eyes wandered from 
the display of wealth in her lap to her white and 
frightened face — to the purple-gray eyes dilating in 
wild alarm. The face disappeared upon the instant. 

Then Beatrix catching up her dress with its contents, 
ran to the door and tried the latch. The door was fast. 


52 


Beatrix Rohan. 


She hurried to her door opening- into the hall, and 
looked out. The dim and narrow passage was empty. 

The girl’s nerves were considerably shaken. She 
trembled excessively. She sat down in a corner of the 
room, out of range of the transom-window, but it was 
some minutes before she could resume her task. 

It seemed to her as if all mankind was banded against 
her to rob her of the wealth she had inherited from her 
parents. Her relatives had persecuted her for her 
money, and the owner of that sinister countenance 
pressed against her window had looked as if he meant 
to steal her purse. 

It behoved her to be specially guarded and cautious. 
She had no one to protect her ; she must protect herself. 

Regaining her composure, she carefully sewed into 
her stays all her bank-notes. Her gold coins num- 
bered some thirty sovereigns. These she left in her 
pocket-book. 

She re-arranged her dress and formed her plan of 
action. She dared not remain at the inn over night, 
lest the Brands should find her there. She must leave 
Antwerp immediately. It was nearly dusk. The streets 
below lay in deep shadow. A light or two gleamed from 
the windows of the opposite houses. 

The girl rung her bell, and ordered her bill and a car- 
riage to convey her to the quay of the London steamer. 

“ But the steamer does not leave at night, madem- 
oiselle,” replied the waiter, in French. “ It departs at 
precisely twelve o’clock, noon, to-morrow.” 

“ That does not matter,” declared Beatrix. “ I will 
have the carriage.” 

A halfdiour elapsed before the carriage was 
announced. By this time it was quite dark. Dozens of 
lights flickered now upon the street below. The 
corner- lamps were burning. Beatrix was shrouded in 


At Hand ! 


53 


her long dark-blue water-proof, with hat and gloves on, 
long before the waiter came up to call her. She sprang 
up from her dark window as his loud knock resounded 
on her door, and followed him down to the court-yard 
where her cab waited. 

The landlord helped her into it and gave her order in 
a loud voice. The vehicle started, proceeded a few 
paces, and halted, as a man came running out of the inn 
and climbed the box beside the driver. 

The light of the hostler’s lantern fell for an instant 
upon his face as he approached. Beatrix recognized 
him. His was the visage she had seen at her window ! 

Before she could utter a word or a cry, the carriage 
speeded out of the yard into the street. 

It proceeded at a rattling pace through the narrow 
tree-bordered avenues, which seemed quiet and respect- 
able. Beatrix softly opened the door, keeping her hand 
upon the latch. 

Her fears were all alive. Stories that she had heard 
of robbery and murder thronged into her mind. Yet 
she had never been more cool and self-possessed, or 
more resolute, in her life. 

“ The driver will take me to the quay,” she thought. 
“ He looked an honest fellow. The man means to rob 
me after the driver leaves me. We will see.” 

Just then the carriage stopped abruptly, coming 
almost to a halt. Beatrix look out and saw that another 
carriage just ahead had caused the momentary block- 
ade. There were no lights to her cab. At that point 
the street was dark. A corner presented itself close at 
hand. 

As quick as a flash, Beatrix slipped out of the vehicle 
and glided into the shadow of a tall house, which was 
conveniently near. Her movements had not been wit- 
nessed. The cab rattled away upon its course. 


54 


Beatrix Rohan % 


The girl turned the nearest corner, and ran swiftly. 

She had not proceeded a dozen rods when she beheld 
a cab approaching at a walk. She ascertained that it 
was empty, and signalled it. The driver drew up at 
the curb, signifying his readiness for an engagement, 
and Beatrix, an instant later, was on her way to the 
railway station. 

She arrived almost at the moment of the departure of 
an express train for Brussels. She had barely time to 
pay her cabman, to procure her ticket, and hurry to her 
place in a first-class compartment, assisted by the 
guard, when the train steamed out of the station. 

And now for the first time since leaving the inn she 
breathed freely. 

The compartment into which she had been ushered 
had already an occupant at the moment of her 
entrance. 

This occupant was an elderly English lady, very 
short, very .stout, and very apoplectic in appearance. 
She was dressed in the worst possible taste — as so many 
English women delight in dressing upon their travels — 
wearing a light-colored silk gown, all frayed and worn 
about the hem, that had originally served as a dinner- 
dress. Over this was a jacket of long grayish fur. 

Beatrix, possessing the true English exclusiveness, 
and having in addition a pressing sense of the necessity 
of extreme caution, moved to a farther window and 
looked out into the darkness. 

Her countrywoman was equally silent. She studied 
the girl’s appearance critically in a quiet manner, but 
when Beatrix moved she averted her gaze, contempla- 
ting the lamp overhead with an appearance of great 
interest. 

The most casual observer could not have taken 
Beatrix for anything other than she was, a high-bred, 


At Hand! 


55 


delicately reared, aristocratic young lady. Her travel- 
ing companion studied her rare and exquisite beauty, the 
low, wide forehead, the long curling lashes on the pure, 
pale cheeks, the masses of tawny hair, the refinement, 
the daintiness, the grace, all with appreciative eyes. 
She noted, too, that the girl’s water-proof cloak was of 
excellent material and well-cut, that her traveling-bag 
was of real Russia leather, and that all the details of 
her toilet were perfect in their way. 

“ She must be rich,” thought the old woman. “ How 
odd that she should be traveling alone !” 

She was so interested in her study of the girl that 
her traveling-rug slipped from her unheeded. Hear- 
ing the sound of its falling, Beatrix turned and picked 
it up, restoring it courteously to its corpulent and 
elderly owner. 

“ Thanks,” said the old lady, in a well-bred voice. 
“ I am very careless, to be sure. I am not used to 
traveling alone. Are you alone also ?” 

Beatrix stole a swift glance into her country-woman’s 
red, apoplectic countenance. It was a kindly old face, 
and despite her slovenly attire, the old lady was evi- 
dently really a lady, well-bred, educated and refined. 
Beatrix felt an instinctive liking for her. 

“ Yes, madame,” she answered, politely. “ I am on 
my way to England, where I have friends, but I am 
traveling alone.” 

“ You are too young to be wandering about in this 
manner alone,” said the old lady, kindly, but with some- 
thing of surprise in her eyes. “ Even I, who am fifty- 
seven years of age, do not like to travel unprotected. 
My maid is a Belgian and would not leave Antwerp, so 
I am traveling to England alone, by way of Brussels 
and Calais. But I assure you, this caring for one’s own 
luggage, and buying one’s own tickets, and hiring one’s 


56 


Beatrix Rohan . 


own cabs, are all a nuisance. How could your friends 
permit you to have so much annoyance — you, who are 
so young and — and so attractive ?” 

“ My friends are in England,” said Beatrix. “ I have 
no friends in this country.” 

The old lady drew her own conclusions from the girl’s 
reticent manner, that Beatrix was a governess out of 
place, an ex-teacher in some English school, or an Eng- 
lish girl who had been at school at Antwerp. 

“ Girls are brought up differently now-a-days from 
what they were when I was young,” she thought. 
“ What with women’s rights’ women, and -women doc- 
tors, and women lecturers, and all these new-fangled 
notions, women are expected to be mannish, and there’s 
not the care taken of young girls that there used to be. 
They must push and strive and fight their own way just 
as men do. It’s a bad change. Women are not made 
to be men nor to act the part of men. They are weak 
and should be cared for and watched over and shel- 
tered.” 

And this conservative old lady sighed over the 
degeneration of these later days. 

Presently, being of a social temperament, and having 
taken a fancy to Beatrix, she asked She latter by what 
route she intended to travel to England. Finding that 
the girl was going by way of Calais, she expatiated 
upon the horrors of sea-sickness, and the advantages of 
the short sea-route, and grew quite entertaining. But 
her share of the national quality of exclusiveness was 
large, and she did not propose to take the girl under 
her convoy. 

“ I shall stop at the Hotel de Flandre at Brussels to- 
night and go on in the morning,” she said. “ I prefer 
to travel by daylight. There are so many horrid acci- 
dents to the railway trains now-a-days, and if I am to be 


At Hand ! 


57 


killed on the railway I prefer to be killed in the day- 
time, so that at least I can have the melancholy satisfac- 
tion of seeing by what means I die.” 

But no accident occurred upon this occasion, as the 
old lady evidently expected. The train arrived at 
Brussels safely, and the guard unlocked the doors. 

Beatrix’s traveling-bag was attached to her belt, and 
she had no other luggage ; but her countrywoman 
possessed a vast quantity of impedimenta, and the girl 
paused to assist her in loading down her person with 
rug, shawl, bag, box, and parcel. She would have 
offered to carry some of these, but the old lady had put 
aside her sociability and was once more the reserved 
and slightly supercilious Briton, with the air of being 
fully sufficient unto herself. 

Beatrix waited until the, guard had helped out the old 
lady with her effects, and then, with a parting saluta- 
tion, made her way to a cab. 

She had made up her mind to go to the Hotel de 
Flandre also, feeling a sort of security in the proximity 
of her countrywoman, and had just given the address 
to the cabman, and was about to enter the vehicle, 
when a loud and shrill outcry behind her aroused her 
attention, and she halted, looking around. 

She beheld the old lady the center of an excited little 
group, herself the most excited of them all. She was 
gesticulating frantically, and talking hysterically in an 
odd mixture of French and English. 

“ What can be the matter ?” Beatrix said, aloud. 

It was easy to see that her countrywoman was in 
trouble. Beatrix stepped forward and asked what had 
happened. 

“ I have had my pocket picked !” exclaimed the old 
lady. “ It was a fellow in a black coat. I saw him — 
he has escaped ! And these men stand gaping here 


58 


Beatrix Rohan. 


instead of pursuing him. He picked my pocket of my 
purse, and I haven’t a penny of money, and my daugh- 
ter lying ill in England, waiting for me to come to her ! 
Oh, if they would only pursue the rascal that I might 
see him hanged !” 

The poor old woman gave way to a wild burst of 
tears, half of misery, half of downright anger. 

“ Madame shall inform the police,” said a polite Bel- 
gian. “ In a few days, the purse may perhaps be 
found — ” 

“ ‘ In a few days !’ * Perhaps !’ ” cried the old 

Englishwoman, growing apoplectic. “ Mong Doo ! 
And my daughter ill ! I cannot stop a day. What a 
vile country ! I shall complain to my government. 
We shall see if Englishwomen are to be robbed with 
impunity in a little no-account country like this. ‘ A 
few days !’ I cannot wait. What am I to do?” 

Her watery gaze rested upon Beatrix in a sort of sup- 
plication. 

“ Let me advise you, madam,” said the girl, gently. 
“ You can lodge a complaint with the police to-night. 
And if you will permit me I will defray your expenses 
to England very gladly in return for your kind pro- 
tection.” 

This offer was made in English, in a low tone. The 
old woman regarded Beatrix as her deliverer and pre- 
server. She accepted the offer eagerly and gratefully. 

A police officer, on duty at the station, was already at 
hand. The old lady told her story, described the thief, 
and gave her English address, uttering dire threatenings 
in the name of the British government in case her 
property were not recovered. 

Then she suffered Beatrix to lead her to the cab, and 
they drove away in the direction of the Place Roy ale. 

The old lady gave vent to her indignation against the 


At Hand / 


59 


pickpocket who had robbed her, the city of Brussels, the 
country, its government and institutions generally, in 
good set terms, and had grown somewhat calm before 
they reached their destination. 

“ You are very good, my dear," she said, as the cab 
approached the Place Royale, “ and I am very grateful. 
To stop here until I could receive a remittance from 
England would be martyrdom. I will repay your kind 
loan as soon as I reach my friends. My name is Trevor 
— Mrs. Trevor. And yours ?" 

“ Please register our names as Mrs. Trevor and com- 
panion, madame," said the girl, flushing. “ My name is 
Beatrix ” 

She paused, as the carriage came to a halt. 

“ An odd name !" said Mrs. Trevor, who had caught 
the sound imperfectly. “MissTrist! Very odd. French, 
isn’t it ? Ah, we get out here. Please get out first, 
Miss Trist. My knees are so weak, I fear I shall not be 
able to stand up.” 

Beatrix alighted, and a hotel-clerk assisted Mrs. 
Trevor to descend. The traveling companions were 
escorted up-stairs to a parlor, with a bedroom adjoining, 
all fronting the Place. Another bedroom across the 
hall, opening upon a court, was accepted by Beatrix. 

The girl ordered a supper to be served in their apart- 
ment, much to Mrs. Trevor’s satisfaction. A clerk 
brought up the hotel -register, and the elder lady 
signed it as Beatrix had indicated. 

“ I will go to my room now, and wash off a little of 
this dust of travel, and lay aside my hat and cloak," 
said the girl cheerfully. “ I shall lodge just across the 
hall, within sound of your voice, should you need to 
call me in the night.” 

She withdrew. She crossed the narrow corridor and 
applied the key to the lock. Just then the sound of a 


6o 


Beatrix Rohan . 


step that was strangely familiar made her heart quicken 
its beatings. Looking up, she beheld, standing in the 
wide, well- lighted staircase hall, only a few feet dis- 
tant, her worse enemy — the man from whom she was 
fleeing — Randall Brand ! 


CHAPTER VII. 

A BREATHING SPACE. 

Yes, it was Randall Brand, in that upper stair- hall at 
the Hotel de Flandre — Randall Brand, haggard and 
sinister, his yellow complexion yellower than ever, his 
red hair showing in a heavy fringe beneath his tall, 
shiny black hat, his serpent eyes gleaming with restless 
fires, his hanging underlip swollen and quivering, his 
two long front teeth protruding like a wolfs fangs. 

He was talking in a low voice with a black-garbed 
waiter who held a tray in his hands. 

Only the low murmur of their voices reached the 
girl’s ears. 

Her enemy had not seen Beatrix, thanks to her noise- 
less movements, the dark color of her cloak, and the 
deep shadow of the ill-lighted passage in which she 
stood. But as he turned his head in her direction, as if 
some subtle instinct warned him that his quarry was 
near, the girl pushed open her door swiftly, and dis- 
appeared within her room. 

Then she strained her hearing to listen. She heard 
Randall Brand’s steps approach the corridor and halt 
before her chamber. She held her breath in suspense. 
Had he recognized her ? Her knees shook. She 
leaned against the wall, white and despairing. 


A Breathing Space . 


61 


A knock broke the stillness — a peremptory knock 
upon the door of her new friend. And then Beatrix 
heard her enemy enter Mrs. Trevor’s room. 

The impulse of flight was^ strong within the girl at 
that moment ; but her strength seemed utterly gone. 
She sat down in a chair close by the door, incapable of 
thought, her brain in a whirl. The minutes seemed 
like ages to her. But at last she heard the opposite 
door again open, and Randall Brand’s steps in retreat. 

What had happened ? Of course he had discovered 
her presence here. Mrs. Trevor must have answered 
all his questions. 

“Perhaps he expects me to try to escape from the 
hotel,” she thought. “ Perhaps he is waiting for me 
below, so as to take me prisoner with as little trouble 
as possible ? Perhaps he has gone for an officer to 
arrest me as a runaway ward ?” 

She waited, sick at heart. She heard a servant in the 
corridor with glasses and silver jingling upon a tray. 
He entered her sitting-room. She heard Mrs. Trevor’s 
voice in conversation ; she listened while the table was 
being laid for the supper ; and she did not stir until the 
waiter rapped upon her door and announced that 
supper was served. 

Then she rose slowly, heavily. 

“Escape is impossible!” she thought. “I cannot 
leave the hotel. I will appeal to Mrs. Trevor before I 
am carried away. At least, she will convey a message 
to my friends in London.” 

She removed her hat, but made no change in her 
toilet. She had forgotten all about the dust of travel. 
She listened again, then opened her door and slipped 
across the passage into the sitting-room. 

Randall Brand was no longer in the stair-hall, as a 


62 


Beatrix Rohan . 


glance assured her. His absence, however, gave her 
no hope. 

She found the supper served. Mrs. Trevor was 
waiting for her. The stout, red-faced old lady was in a 
high ill-humor, and looked more apoplectic than ever. 
She presented an odd resemblance to a gorgeous paro- 
quet whose feathers are ruffled. All the supercilious- 
ness of her nature, all the pride and anger of which she 
was capable were in a high state of effervescence. 

“ Lock the door, my dear,” she said, as Beatrix 
entered. “ From the moment I entered Brussels I 
seem to have become a mark and target for thieves. It 
is very strange. There's been another of 'em here, 
Miss Trist. He may say what he likes, but I know he 
is in league with that pickpocket at the station, 
although he looks and talks like a gentleman.” 

Beatrix looked her surprise. 

" You look pale and scared, my dear,” continued Mrs. 
Trevor. “You need not be afraid so long as you are 
under my protection. I am not used to traveling alone, 
but I know the tricks and ways of these gentlemen who 
live by their wits. I haven’t read the Engligh news- 
papers so long for nothing. My motto — and it should 
be the motto of every unprotected woman — is to regard 
every man you meet, whatever his appearance, as an 
escaped convict, unless he presents proper credentials, 
or is introduced to you by a friend.” 

“ And — and you treated your visitor in that way ?” 

“ Certainly, I did,” declared Mrs. Trevor, swelling 
pompously. “A man came in here — a man with red 
hair and an underlip like a bulldog's — and, at first, I 
took him for some one from the police office, sent to 
restore my stolen pocket-book. I asked him for my 
money, in French, you know. He answered in English 
that he didn’t know anything about my money. I asked 


A Breathing Space. 


63 


him if he was not in the service of the police ? He grew 
as red as a turkey-cock, and answered that he was a 
gentleman — an English gentleman. I said I shouldn’t 
have known it if he hadn’t told me. You see I took a 
dislike to him on the spot. And then he flared up — he’d 
an awful temper. I should hate to have that man my 
enemy. I think, for an educated man, an Englishman, 
he’s as near a savage and a blood-thirsty tiger as a man 
can be !” said Mrs. Trevor, rather incoherently. “ And 
I think he's in league with that pickpocket at the sta- 
tion, despite his pretensions to gentility.” 

“ But what did he want ?” asked Beatrix, faintly. 

“ What he wanted, the Lord in heaven only knows !” 
said Mrs. Trevor, piously. “ What he pretended to 
want was a young girl, his cousin, who he said had run 
away from home. I should think any young girl would 
run away rather than sit at table three times a day 
opposite that under-lip ! He asked about my compan- 
ion. Thought you might be his cousin. I dare say 
some thief has seen us traveling without escort, and 
thinking we have money, and having got mine, would 
like now to relieve you of yours. He asked your name 
and age, and how you looked — the impudent creature.” 

“ And what did you tell him ?” 

“ Heaven forgive the lies I told him,” said Mrs. 
Trevor, soberly. “You see strong creatures like men, 
who can fight if attacked, ought to be bold and all 
that. But a woman can't fight. She’s helpless and 
weak — a kind of pigeon to be picked by the hawks. 
And, as a woman can’t fight for herself, I don’t think 
that Heaven will be hard upon her for a lie or two in 
the way of self-protection. I am not courageous, I own. 
I think that this fellow would dog us to England if he 
thought we had plenty of money. So I told him that 
you were my companion, that your name was Mrs. 


6 4 


Beatrix Rohart . 


Trist, and that you were a widow. And I told him that 
you were poor. And I said that my pocket-book had 
been stolen, and I fixed my eyes on him and asked him 
if he couldn’t tell me something about it. He got mad 
and left in high dudgeon. Did you hear my door 
slam ?" 

“ Do you think that he believed what you said ?” 
asked Beatrix, anxiously. 

“ Believed it ! I should like to see who would dis- 
believe my statements !” cried the old lady, bristling. 
“ And after all, didn’t I tell the truth on all points save 
one ? Is not your name Trist ? Are you not poor ? 
As to your being a widow, that little fiction might be 
overlooked. You are my companion during the jour- 
ney to England, are you not ? We are rid of the 
wretch anyhow, that’s one comfort ; and, as to what 
I told him, I am as truthful as anyone, and I hate any- 
thing false ; but a little deceit might be pardoned a 
woman, I think, when that deceit is an armor to pro- 
tect her from the wicked.” 

Beatrix did not give her opinion. She had a very 
nice sense of honor, was truthful to an absolute degree, 
was incapable of a falsehood, yet she could not rebuke 
this angry old woman whose subterfuge had served her 
so well. 

“And now,” said Mrs. Trevor, recovering her cheer- 
fulness, “ let us have our supper. I ought to have a 
good appetite after outwitting that fellow !” 

They sat down at the table, and gradually Beatrix 
acquired a sense of security, and became cheerful also. 
They lingered over the meal, chatting busily, but the 
girl carefully avoided all allusions to herself. Mrs. 
Trevor being very social and talkative, did not notice 
this reticence. 


A Breathing Space. 


65 


About ten o’clock they separated, Beatrix going to 
her own room. 

She went to bed and slept soundly. She was awak- 
ened in the morning by a servant who knocked upon 
her door. She arose and dressed, and went to her sit- 
ting-room. Mrs. Trevor was waiting for her, and 
breakfast was on the table. 

“ We are to start in half-an-hour, my dear,” said the 
old lady. “ I ordered the cab, and, as you see, I took 
the liberty to order breakfast. We have barely time 
in which to eat it.” 

The breakfast was after the English type, hearty and 
substantial, and the travelers did justice to it. 

After the meal they hastened to put on their outer 
garments and descended to the cab. Their journey to 
the railway station was performed in safety, and they 
entered the waiting-room assigned to the especial use 
of first-class passengers. 

Ten minutes later they were seated in the railway- 
coach, in a ladies’ first-class compartment, which Bea- 
trix, by a gratuity to the guard, had secured to them- 
selves, and the train was on its way to Calais. 

They had seen nothing of Randall Brand at the sta- 
tion, yet Beatrix could not feel quite sure that she had 
eluded his vigilance. She dreaded at every station to 
behold his malignant face, and every time the guard 
appeared she expected him to exhibit a telegram order- 
ing her detention at the next stopping-place. 

But her expectations were not verified. She alighted 
with the other passengers for refreshments, and no one 
took particular notice of her. She performed the journey 
in safety, and reached Calais unharmed. 

And now a fresh dismay seized her. 

“ Shall I need a passport, Mrs. Trevor ?” she asked. 
“ I have heard that they are very particular here since 


66 


Beatrix Rohan . 


the war, and demand passports of every one leaving or 
entering the country. Why did I not remember this 
before ?” 

“They won’t take you for an escaping communist, 
my dear,” replied Mrs. Trevor. “ I don’t think you’ll 
need a passport, but if you do I think I can arrange 
matters, if you don’t mind passing as my servant. You 
see my passport is for myself and maid, but my maid 
refused to come with me, and if you choose you can take 
her place. There’s no description of her.” 

So the matter was settled. 

The ladies made their way upon the boat safely, and 
still there was no sign of Randall Brand. They took 
seats upon the deck, and Beatrix kept her face vailed. 

The passage to Dover was made in the usual ninety 
minutes. The train was in readiness to depart, upon 
the English side, and Beatrix and Mrs. Trevor hastened 
to take their places in it. 

“ Are your friends living in London, Miss Trist ?” 
inquired the old lady, as they hurried through the fair 
Kentish weald. “We shall arrive late. Do they expect 
you ?” 

“No, madame,” answered Beatrix, “they do not 
expect me, I shall not venture to go directly to them 
this evening. I must go to a hotel*” 

“ You will very likely be turned away from a hotel, if 
you arrive alone,” said Mrs. Trevor. “ And eight 
o’clock, or thereabouts is late for a young lady to be 
out unattended. I have to go to my daughter who is 
ill at Brompton, else I would interest myself in the 
matter of your lodgings. To what hotel do you intend 
going ?” 

“ I don’t know,” answered the girl, despondently. 
“ I’ve been looking in Bradshaw — ” 

“ Oh, that will never do !” interrupted Mrs. Trevor. 


A Breathing Space. 


67 


“With that face of yours, my dear, you can’t stop at 
any hotel you may choose at haphazard. Just think 
of our adventure at the first-class Hotel de Flandre. 
What might happen here at a second-rate inn? No, 
no. You have done me a good turn, Miss Trist, and 
I will do what I can for you. 1 used to keep house out 
at Brompton when my husband was living and I had a 
better income and I had a good old housekeeper — her 
name was Punnet. When I broke up housekeeping 
she hired a house and took lodgers. She has a nice 
respectable house, and she is a good, honest soul, is 
Mrs. Punnet. I’ll give you a line to her and she’ll find 
you a lodging even if her house is full.” 

Beatrix expressed her gratitude in warm terms. 

“ I shrink from going to a hotel,” she said. “ I am 
very grateful to you, Mrs. Trevor, for your kind inter- 
est in me. Where is Mrs. Punnet’s house ?” 

“ In Bayswater, number four Wellesley Terrace, 
Grand street. It is a most respectable neighborhood, 
and Mrs. Punnet never takes a lodger without refer- 
ences. I’ll just write a note to her.” 

Mrs. Trevor produced writing-paper and a pencil 
from her hand-bag, and proceeded to write a letter at 
some length to her former housekeeper. When it was 
finished, she gave it into the girl’s hands unsealed. 

“ Give that letter to Mrs. Punnet,” she remarked, 
“ and she will do anything for you. I may not see you 
again, Miss Trist, but I will send a servant to you in 
the morning with the sum of money you have so kindly 
loaned me. I shall not forget your goodness to an utter 
stranger, and if I can ever serve you in any way do not 
hesitate to apply to me. There is my address.” 

She wrote it down on a scrap of paper which Beatrix 
put in her pocket-book. 

The train arrived at the London Bridge station on 


68 


Beatrix Rohan . 


time. Mrs. Trevor took leave of her traveling-com- 
panion with a genuine kindness and regret, and took a 
cab for Brompton. And Beatrix, after a keen glance 
to make sure that no enemy was lurking near, entered 
a cab also, and gave the address of Punnet — “ 4 
Wellesley Terrace, Grand street, Bayswater.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

SETTLING INTO HER WORK. 

The real Miss Bermyngham had telegraphed from 
Paris to the Langham Hotel, London, for a suite 
of rooms for herself and servant. When the false Miss 
Bermyngham, therefore, arrived, she was shown up at 
once to a handsome private parlor, off which two bed- 
rooms opened. She threw back her vail and looked 
about her half-discontentedly, as if she considered 
these very inferior quarters indeed, and not worthy her 
distinguished occupancy. 

“ Have a fire lighted in the grate immediately !” she 
commanded, with an air of hauteur that contrasted 
strangely with her childish appearance and pink-and- 
white prettiness. “ This is a horrible climate after India. 
And, oh, send a chambermaid to me. I have lost my 
own maid, and shall need personal attendance until I 
can procure another.” 

These orders were promptly executed. 

It was early evening, and a drizzling, chilling April 
rain had set in. A fire was made in the grate. All the 
gas-jets were lighted. The curtains were lowered. A 
chambermaid had assisted at the impostor’s toilet, had 


Settling into Her Work. 


69 


drawn a low couch near the hearth and had stolen out. 
The false Miss Bermyngham reclined at full length, 
basking in the red warm glow, and awaiting the appear- 
ance of the dinner she had ordered. 

“ This is better than the fate I have so narrowly 
escaped,” she thought, contentedly. “ If I had not had 
my presence of mind — if I had foolishly blurted out the 
truth that my mistress was dead — if I had told those 
people at the station that I was only the maid — I might 
have been lodged somewhere up under the eaves at this 
moment ; if they would have taken me in here at all. 
Or, more likely, as I hadn’t a penny of my own, I should 
be wandering in the wet streets, without food or shelter. 
There is an old adage that a cat always falls upon her 
feet. I have verified it.” 

She laughed softly, showing her narrow, whited, 
pointed teeth. 

Her dinner was brought up to her presently and was 
served with ceremony. The false Miss Bermyngham 
was not one to abate one jot or tittle of the state which 
she conceived to belong to the position she had usurped. 
After an hour at the table, she dismissed her servitors 
with their equipage and returned to her couch. 

She had traveled long and without stopping, but she 
was not especially tired. She mused a while upon her 
prospective grandeurs, wondered whether she would 
like Lady Folliott, Miss Bermyngham’s aunt, and 
indulged in some speculations concerning Sir Lionel 
Charlton. And then her thoughts drifted, in spite of 
herself, to the dead girl whose name and fortune she had 
stolen. She shuddered as she recalled the ghastly dead 
face, with its staring eyes, which had seemed to regard 
her with a fixed, accusing gaze. The real Miss 
Bermyngham, the subject of a coroner’s inquest, her 
identity hidden under the name and obscure past of the 


70 


Beatrix Rohan. 


mysterious Agatha Walden, would be safely buried on 
the morrow in an unmarked and humble grave ; and 
yet it seemed to the usurper that her dead mistress was 
present in the room with her in intangible shape. She 
turned her head uneasily, with growing nervousness. 

“ I am positively childish !” she said to herself, 
angrily. “ This will never do. I must occupy my mind 
with something, or I shall go mad with my imbecile 
fancies.” 

Miss Bermyngham’s trunks had been brought up and 
placed in one of the adjoining bedrooms. The keys 
were in the dressing-bag. Agatha had never seen the 
contents of these boxes, with one exception, most of 
them having been in the hold of the vessel during the 
voyage. 

She now devoted herself to their examination. 

One trunk was filled with pictures, books, and busi- 
ness documents, over which the impostor glanced 
hurriedly. A second was filled with under-linen. She 
laid out a set for her own wear. The contents of several 
of the boxes seemed to her of little account, being 
family relics. Two of them only interested her spec- 
ially. 

One was filled with mourning-dresses. 

“ Humph,” said the impostor, turning over the crape- 
trimmed garments somewhat roughly, “ I don’t see a 
colored gown here. That brown velveteen traveling- 
suit she bought at Marseilles, and it seems to be the 
only costume she had out of black. It’s a year since 
Mr. Bermyngham died — and mourning isn’t becoming 
to me. I shall go shopping to-morrow.” 

The last box contained India shawls, Miss Bermyng- 
ham’s diary, packets of letters, and a camphor-wood 
case containing a magnificient cashmere shawl, with a 
card pinned upon it bearing the inscription : “ To my 


Settling into Her Work. 


7 * 


dear aunt, Lady Folliott, from her affectionate niece, 
Nerea Bermyngham.” 

“A present, eh ?” said the impostor. “ Well, I shall 
deliver it all the same. It must have cost a fortune. 
And they say one can buy India shawls to better advan- 
tage in London than in India. I hope my dear aunt 
will be pleased with it. And now for the letters and 
diary.” 

She took these into the parlor and studied the latter 
first. It contained an account of Miss Bermyngliam’s 
life at Calcutta, expressions of deep grief at the death 
of her father and of a conviction that she had inherited 
his malady and would die young. It contained also 
allusions to her aunt, Lady Folliott, and once or twice 
the name of Sir Lionel Charlton was mentioned. There 
were few salient points in it, but after its perusal the 
usurper felt that she had acquired a keener insight 
into the Bermyngham family matters and that she need 
not doubt her ability to play successfully the part she 
had assumed. 

Then followed the reading of the letters. 

These were mostly in the handwriting of Lady Folli- 
ott and had all been written during the past few months. 
The impostor gave them close study. 

They were couched in the most affectionate terms. 
In one, bearing date six months previous, occurred this 
passage : 

“ I think, dear Nerea, that the greatest desire of my 
life would be gratified if I could see you the wife of my 
late husband’s nephew, Sir Lionel Charlton. The 
baronet is young, handsome and noble. Unfortunately, 
however, his great ancestral estates are encumbered 
with heavy mortgages, owing to the prodigality and 
recklessness of his predecessors. As you know, I have 


72 


Beatrix Rohan . 


in my own right a very large fortune. My dear hus- 
band left me all his property absolutely. It has long 
been my wish to bestow all I possess, at my death, upon 
you and Sir Lionel jointly. This I will agree to do if 
you marry each other. If either of you decline to enter 
into this marriage, it will be at the expense of my prop- 
erty. But I do not fear that either of you will decline. 
Sir Lionel is a grand young fellow, and you, my dear 
Nerea, I am sure must be very lovely. I regret that 
you refuse to send us your picture. No doubt you mean 
to surprise us all with your blonde beauty, ma petite. 
Sir Lionel is ‘ heart-whole.’ He has odd ideas about 
matrimony — means to marry for love. Come and con- 
quer him, my love, and gladden your affectionate aunt.” 

The false Miss Bermyngham leaned back in her easy- 
chair and meditated. 

“ Why shouldn’t I marry this handsome young 
baronet ?” she asked herself. “ Why should I not 
become Lady Charlton and the inheritor of this old 
woman’s great double-fortune. That, added to the 
Bermyngham property, will make me richer than an 
Indian Begum. I shall be worshipped, toasted, sung 
about. New bonnets will be named after me. Music 
will be dedicated to me. I shall be a queen in society. 
Yes, my resolution is taken. I will marry Sir Lionel 
Charlton.” 

She set her thin red lips together in a firm, hard, 
unpleasant line, and her eyes shone like cat’s eyes, with 
a subtle, yellow gleaming. 

She lingered over her study until long past midnight. 
The tired chambermaid had long since gone to bed, and 
the false heiress was forced to disrobe herself. That 
night toilet was full of delight to her. 

She employed Miss Bermyngham’s carved ivory- 


Settlmg into Her Work. 


73 


backed brushes to smooth out her rich-hued yellow 
hair, and tried on Miss Bermyngham’s diamonds, 
admiring their effect, and finally enrobed her small, 
childish figure in a dainty, lace-trimmed linen gown, 
and crept into bed, leaving all her lights burning. 

Strangely enough, she dropped asleep almost immedi- 
ately, slumbering as tranquilly as a healthy child 

In the morning she dressed herself in her black silk 
traveling-dress, and, after her breakfast, went out in a 
carriage, and unattended, upon a shopping excursion. 

Her first visit was to one of those women of doubtful 
position, known as enamelers. There were certain 
defects of the usurper's pink and white complexion, 
certain little lines and cracks which demanded prompt 
attention. A couple of hours under the hands of the 
face enameler resulted in a dazzlingly brilliant com- 
plexion, which had the appearance of being genuine. 
Not only had the skin been made to appear as soft and 
pure as an infant’s, but the lips were of a more vivid 
red, the eyebrows had a golden tinge that contrasted 
charmingly with the black eyes under them, and the 
hair, having received a bath of aqua aura or some simi- 
lar golden dye, was beautifully Titianesque in its rich 
coloring. 

The imposter purchased a quantity of dyes, perfumes, 
and other articles necessary to the maintenance of her 
present personal appearance, and then proceeded to an 
outfitting establishment, where she bought a trousseau 
fit for a princess. 

She then returned to her hotel. 

It was now late in the afternoon, and she ordered 
her dinner to be served at once. After dinner she 
despatched a telegram to Lady Folliott, of Folliott 
Court, near Spalding, Lincolnshire, announcing her 
arrival as that of Nerea Bermyngham, from Calcutta, 


74 


Beatrix Rohan. 


and stating that she would leave London on her way to 
Lincolnshire upon the morning of the second day sub- 
sequent to the sending of her telegram. 

“ That will keep her at home, I think,” said the 
impostor to herself. “ I shall have to-morrow to myself, 
and to-morrow evening also. By the time I reach 
Folliott Court I shall have become accustomed to my 
new honors.” 

The next day she devoted to the acquisition of a 
French lady’s maid. She studied the advertisements in 
the newspapers and visited intelligence offices, but it 
was late in the afternoon before she had suited herself. 
When she had done so at last, she returned to the hotel. 
An hour later, her servant, a discreet, reserved-looking 
Frenchwoman, appeared and entered her service. The 
impostor made a handsome toilette, wearing a trained 
dress of black silk, with lilac trimmings, which became 
her dazzling complexion, and a set of blazing rubies. 
She made a sweeping entrance into her parlor, which 
was bright with fire and lights. 

“ I do far greater justice to the Bermyngham jewels 
and the Bermyngham wealth than that faded, insignifi- 
cant Nerea ever could have done !” she said to herself, 
delightedly. I shall captivate them all in Lincolnshire. 
I shall have things my own way. I am impatient to 
see my dear aunt, and to try my fascinations upon her. 
I dread meeting her, but she is the only one I have need 
to fear. Suppose — suppose some instinct tells her that 
I am not of her blood — that I am an impostor ! I begin 
to tremble. 

She paused before a long mirror, surveying her 
reflection, half in admiration, half in anxious criticism. 

The door suddenly opened and a servant ushered in 
an elderly lady in traveling costume, announcing : 

“ Lady Folliott from Lincolnshire !” 



CHAPTER IX. 

LADY FOLLIOTT. 

As the false Miss Bermyngham had acknowledged to 
herself, she dreaded a meeting with Lady Folliott, the 
aunt of the real Miss Bermyngham, as the crucial test 
of her pretensions. 

Lady Folliott might be a shrewd, keen-eyed woman 
of the world, who would detect the imposture at a 
glance. 

There might have been some especial feature of the 
true Nerea Bermyngham — some family trait that had 
early developed itself in her — which the aunt might 
look for, and failing to discover it, she might have her 
suspicions aroused to the truth. 

And then, too, the impostor had desired to get 
settled into her new character, to become used to her 
stolen position, her life of ease, her costly attire, her 
jewels, before making the acquaintance of Lady Folliott. 
Even the twenty-four hours additional, which she 
believed she had secured to herself, seemed of inestima- 
ble value to her. 

It may be imagined, therefore, that the abrupt 
announcement of Lady Folliott’s arrival at the Lang- 
ham Hotel — the entrance of the baroness into her very 
presence — struck dismay to her soul. 


[75J 



76 


Beatrix Rohan. 


She was staring into the long mirror, and admiring 
her costly toilet and renovated and improved beauty, 
as we have described, when Lady Folliott was ushered 
into her room. 

As the words of the hotel-clerk struck upon her 
startled sense of hearing, she wheeled about and faced 
the intruder, with a sudden sickening sense of terror. 

The moment of her trial had come. Upon the recep- 
tion accorded her by Lady Folliott depended her whole 
future life. Should the baroness accept her without 
suspicion as the true Nerea Bermyngham, a life of 
wealth, luxury, splendor, woidd be assured to the impos- 
tor. She would have all the good things of this life in 
profusion ; she could make a grand marriage ; she 
would be feted, honored, courted. 

But should the baroness discover her imposture, what 
would be her fate ? Poverty, toil and hardships — per- 
haps a prison ! Her past life would be raked up — and 
there was hidden in her past a dark and fearful mys- 
tery which she would rather die than have uncovered ! 

Her fate then depended upon Lady Folliott. In her 
great excitement and suspense, her heart seemed to 
stand still in her bosom. Despite the daring part she 
was playing, she was essentially a coward. Had it not 
been for the enameling upon her face, her complexion 
would have shown white as death. 

As it was, the pretty milk-and-roses coloring did not 
alter, of course, but the girl’s black eyes dilated, and 
her innocent-looking face seemed to express a dozen 
emotions all at once. She stood as if transfixed. But, 
regaining her presence of mind almost upon the instant, 
she gave utterance to a little shriek, and sprang forward 
crying out : 

“ My dear aunt ! My dear, dear Aunt Folliott !” 


Lady Folliott. 


77 


The baroness met her half-way and clasped her in a 
close embrace. 

“ My dear child !” she exclaimed, showering kisses 
upon the fair false face of the impostor. “ My precious 
little niece ! I am so glad to see you, darling. Wel- 
come home to England !” 

Her tears fell upon the usurper’s cheeks. The false 
Miss Bermyngham hastened to brush them away with 
her cobweb hankerchief before any damage could be 
done to her complexion. 

The baroness gently put the girl from her at arm’s 
length, keeping a close grasp upon her, and studied her 
face with devouring eyes. 

How innocent and sweet and loving that face 
seemed. So dazzling in its pink and white prettiness 
so apparently artless, so childishly appealing in its 
expression, with its hard black eyes softened and shaded 
by the long eyelashes, with the rich yellow hair crepe d 
and disheveled in fashionable st-yle ! The girl seemed 
utterly guileless. Her looks and manner were cloy- 
ingly sweet. She was like a soft purring white kitten, 
gentle, caressing, and clinging. 

Without a word, Lady Folliott drew the girl to her 
heart again ; and again the two embraced. 

Presently the impostor drew the baroness to a seat 
upon the sofa before the fire and took a place beside 
her, fondling Lady Folliott’s gloved hands in her own 
jeweled fingers. 

“ This is such a surprise — such a delightful surprise !” 
exclaimed the false Miss Bermyngham, in a pretended 
impulsiveness, a gushing sort of way that was certainly 
very pretty and charming. “ But why did you come to 
London to meet me ? I should have gone on to Folliott 
Court to-morrow. I meant to spare you all trouble—” 

“ As if coming to meet you were a trouble !” cried 


78 


Beatrix Rohan. 


the baroness. “ My dear child, you should have tele- 
graphed me from Paris, that I might have been here in 
waiting to receive you, Did you think 1 would allow 
you to come to the very doors of my house as a stranger 
might have done to receive a formal greeting at my 
threshold ? You are the child of my only sister. You 
are the nearest relative I have in the world. You have 
come to be the darling of my old age, I hope, Nerea. I 
know that I shall love you.” 

“ And I love you already, dear Aunt Folliott !” cried 
the girl. “ But let me remove your bonnet. I want to 
see if you have changed any since 1 last saw you.” 

With her own hands, the impostor removed Lady 
Folliott’s bonnet and scarf. Her black eyes took in a 
keen survey of her visitor. 

The baroness was about fifty years of age, tali and 
stately, with a remarkably noble presence. Her eyes 
were blue and keen, her forehead massive, her com- 
plexion still fair and unwrinkled. Her thick hair was 
gray, and was drawn away from her brows in heavy 
waves. There was an air of command about her that 
impressed the usurper. She was habitually haughty, it 
would seem, but there were vast possibilities of ten- 
derness beneath that cold and calm exterior, as the girl 
had already discovered. 

“ Well, do you find me changed, Nerea ?” asked the 
lady, with a smile. “ I hardly expected you to remem- 
ber me.” 

“ How could I forget you, dear Aunt Folliott ?” cried 
the impostor, reproachfully. “ Those weeks I passed 
at Folliott Court were among the brightest of my life. 
I was eight years old at the time, you know. You have 
scarcely changed, only you look somewhat older. Your 
hair was not gray, then,” ventured the girl. 

“ No, it was not,” said the baroness, with a sigh. 


Lady Folliott. 


79 


“ And so you remember me, Nerea ? I have not 
changed, perhaps, but you have changed greatly. You 
are small, as I expected to find you. In fact, you are a 
perfect little fairy ! And you have the blonde looks of 
your mother’s family, but you have the Bermyngham 
black eyes. It is odd, but I have always had the 
impression that you had inherited your mother’s blue 
eyes.” 

“An odd impression,” laughed the impostor. “You 
saw so little of me, Aunt Folliott, even in my childhood, 
that I wonder you remember even the color of my skin. 
You know that I was always in the nursery during my 
fortnight at Folliott Court, except when I was brought 
in after dinner at the dessert, and that you were 
absorbed with gay company. And yet,” added the girl, 
“ I fancy I have heard that my eyes were lighter in 
color when I was a child. If such a thing were possible, 
I should say they had deepened into black since I went 
out to India. But, of course, that is impossible !” and 
she laughed. 

“ You are remarkably pretty, my dear,” said the baro- 
ness, with a sort of fond pride in her regards. “ Your 
hair is of a peculiar golden tint which is singularly rich. 
Your face looks as if, to use a worn expression, you had 
always been fed upon milk and roses. You will create 
a sensation down in Lincolnshire, I can assure you.” 

Lady Folliott did not once think of calling her pre- 
tended niece a beauty, for her standard of beauty was 
exalted and demanded a nobler, grander type. But 
she thought her, as she had said, remarkably pretty, 
although in her secret soul she could not but acknowl- 
edge to herself that that prettiness was after a very 
pronounced order. Were it not for the girl’s seeming 
innocence and shrinking modesty, for her kitten-like 
clinging and caressing, she might have deemed her 


8o 


Beatrix Rohan. 


appearance bordering upon boldness. For a fastidious 
taste, the false Miss Bermyngham’s hair was too ruddy 
in its yellow tinting ; the roses in her cheeks were 
too fixed and unvarying ; the whiteness of her skin too 
marble-like, but the artist had done her work well and 
one could not suspect that Nature herself had not given 
to the usurper her richness of coloring. 

Taken altogether, with her artistically gotten-up face, 
her drooping eyelids, her modest, clinging ways, her 
pretty childish impulsiveness, her soft caressings, the 
false Miss Bermyngham was a dangerous woman — a 
Dazzling Fraud — fair and sweet to look upon, like the 
fabled apples of the Dead Sea, but, like those apples, 
rotten at the core. 

“ I hope I shall create a sensation down in Lincoln- 
shire,” said the impostor, with a seeming artlessness. 
“And I am glad, dear Aunt Folliott, that you think 
me pretty. For beauty brings love, and I could not 
live without love.” 

She pressed one of the baroness’s hands against her 
cheek and to her lips. 

“ My dear child,” cried Lady Folliott, flushing with a 
quick rush of feeling, “ who could help loving you ? 
You were made to pet and love. How strange that I 
expected to find you plain and insignificant in appear- 
ance. But that was because you so persistently refused 
to send me your photograph. And all the while you 
were as pretty and charming as a fairy. And now, 
dear, tell me all about yourself. Why have you per- 
sisted in remaining in India since your father’s death ? 
That idea of yours that you had inherited his disease of 
the heart and could not bear the excitement of travel, 
is all sheerest nonsense. You have pushed through 
from Marseilles without stopping — and such a journey 


Lady Foliiott . 


81 


would exhaust even me — yet here you are as blooming 
as a rose.” 

“ I have borne the journey better than I expected, 
Aunt Foliiott. I was sure that I had inherited papa’s 
heart disease,” said the impostor, “ and I do have the 
strangest pains at my heart now and then, but I am 
much better than I thought. The desire to see you, to 
be clasped in your arms, dear Aunt Foliiott, made me 
rush through France without stopping. Yet when I 
reached London I was nearly exhausted. I was unable 
to go on by the first train to Lincolnshire, as I desired. 
I forget all my fatigue now in looking upon your dear 
face. I am repaid for all my haste.” 

“ Have you had any indications of this malady of the 
heart since you left India ?” inquired the baroness, anx- 
iously. “ I mean, have you been really ill ?” 

“ Oh, no. I was extremely well throughout the voy- 
age. Indeed, I am becoming convinced that I was 
mistaken, and that my heart is not diseased at all.” 

“Iam glad to hear it. Your fancy has made me 
extremely nervous and anxious. Did you leave your 
friends in India well ?” 

“ Not so well as I could wish,” said the usurper. 
“ You know that after papa’s death I did not dismiss 
our servants and close our house, but I maintained my 
household as before. I engaged a chaperon, however, 
out of consideration to public opinion. This, chaperon 
was a widowed lady, whose husband had been an army 
officer. She died a month before I left Calcutta, and I 
really think that the break in. my life caused by her 
death, was the chief cause of my leaving India. Our 
old friend, Colonel Fordyce, was lying at the point of 
death when I sailed, and General Graeme will never live 
to return to England. His liver is completely gone !” 

“You wrote me that you would be attended on your 


82 


Beatrix Rohan . 


journey by your papa’s confidential clerk and by a 
maid,” said Lady Folliott. “ Are both with you here ?” 

The impostor put her handkerchief to her eyes. 

“A strange fatality has attended me since I left 
India,” she said, in a voice that sounded broken and sor- 
rowful. It seems as if, like the poet, I never loved any- 
thing but it was sure to die. It is only a year since 
poor papa died, dear Aunt Folliott. After his death, I 
grew to lean upon papa’s confidential clerk, Jonas Fish- 
erwich. He was an elderly man, not married, and per- 
fectly devoted to my business interests. Before leaving 
India, some presentiment of speedy death seemed to 
come upon me. He disposed of all my property in 
India and transferred my funds into the English consols, 
explaining everything to me and putting matters com- 
pletely within my understanding and under my own 
personal control. I am twenty-three years of age, you 
know, Aunt Folliott, and papa early trained me so that 
I might be able to manage my property after he should 
be taken from me.” 

“ Yes, I know,” said Lady Folliott. “ But where is 
Fisher wich ?” 

“ His presentiment of evil were realized. He died 
on the voyage before reaching Suez.” 

“ How shocking ! And you were attended during 
the remainder of your journey only by your maid ?” 

The impostor assented. 

“ I had an English maid in India,” she said — “ my 
old nurse, you know, Aunt Folliott. She was deeply 
attached to me, but she would not return to England 
with me. She will live and die in India. Her son is 
a clerk in the employ of certain trades-people, and my 
old nurse will live with him, and look after his comfort, 
he being unmarried.” 


Lady Folliott . 


83 


“ Then old Norton is not with you ? Did you have a 
strange woman to attend upon you ?" 

“ Yes, Aunt Folliott. Having made up my mind to 
come to England, and having Fisherwich to look after 
my comfort, I looked about for a maid to suit me. 
Finding none, I advertised, stating my requirements. 
Among the applicants for the situation was a girl 
named Agatha Walden, who came well recommended. 
I liked her appearance. She was plain in looks, but she 
knew her place, and was anxious to please me. She 
was lady-like and refined. I supposed that I was impru- 
dent — I am a creature of impulse — but I engaged the girl 
upon her written recommendations and she agreed to 
come with me to England. She was a week in my 
service at Calcutta, and Norton taught her her new 
duties. This girl was invaluable to me throughout my 
journey home, but I discovered on the voyage that she 
was afflicted with some incurable malady, and that her 
object in coming to England was that she might die in 
her native land among her kindred." 

“ How very sad. Poor girl," said Lady Folliott. “ Is 
she with you still ? or has she gone to her friends ?" 

“ How can I tell you all that I have had to bear, dear 
Aunt Folliott ? This girl grew more and more ill as we 
neared our destination, and she died in the railway 
coach just as we steamed into London." 

Lady Folliott was shocked. 

“ I suppose that she was buried yesterday," continued 
the false Miss Bermyngham. “ I knew nothing of her 
friends, and I have sometimes feared that she never 
gave me her real name. So I gave the kind physician, 
whom I summoned to her aid, money to bury her 
decently, and she was so buried without doubt." 

“ And you are entirely alone here, my dear child ?" 

“Oh, no. I have another maid, a Frenchwoman, 


8 4 


Beatrix Rohan. 


whom I engaged yesterday. I am such a helpless little 
thing, you know, Aunt Folliott,” cooed the pretty hypo- 
crite. “ I can’t wait upon myself, and I decided to 
secure a servant before going down into Lincolnshire.” 

“ I hope you have chosen a good, honest person,” said 
Lady Folliott. “You are inexperienced in the ways of 
the world, my dear. I trust you attended to your maid’s 
references ?” 

“ Thoroughly, Aunt Folliott. I inquired out her past. 
She’s an honest, worthy person, and I know that you 
will commend my judgment in choosing her. And now 
as I have told you all about myself, tell me about your- 
self. You look well and happy.” 

“ Because I am both,” replied Lady Folliott. “ My 
life at Folliott Court is very tranquil and happy. We 
have a pleasant county society, and if I have at times 
been lonely I shall be so no longer now that I shall have 
you for a companion. But, my dear, I am not yet done 
with questioning you. I have an important question to 
ask you. You have returned to England to stay. Have 
you come to me heart-whole ?” and the baroness 
betrayed in her manner with what anxiety she asked 
that question. 

“ Yes, Aunt Folliott, I am heart-whole.” 

Lady Folliott drew a long breath of relief. 

“ I have a plan for your future, my dear,” she said, 
kindly. “ I have marked out a brilliant destiny for you, 
one that will insure your happiness and that will flatter 
your pride. As I indicated in my letters to you, I have 
a husband picked out for you. Is there any reason, so 
far as you are concerned, why you should not marry 
him ?” 

The girl drooped her face modestly. 

“ None whatever,” she said, with apparent shyness 

“ So much the better. Perhaps I am precipitate in 


Forestalled. 


85 


my confidences, Nerea, but I want you to know my 
hopes and wishes before we arrive at Folliott Court. 
This is a matter to me of the utmost importance — ” 

She paused as a knock was heard upon the door. A 
servant entered to lay the table for dinner. 

“ I will retire to my own rooms across the hall to 
make some change in my toilet, Nerea,” said the baron- 
ess. “ My maid is waiting for me, and I shall return to 
you within fifteen minutes. And this evening, my dear, 
we will exchange a long chapter of confidences.” 

She pressed her lips to the brow of the impostor and 
withdrew, going to her own rooms. 

“ That ordeal is over !” thought the false Miss Ber- 
myngham, with a thrill of delight. “ I have hoodwinked 
my Lady Folliott ! She accepts me as her niece with- 
out a shadow of suspicion ! I am fixed in my new posi- 
tion ! Now I can defy the whole world !” 


CHAPTER X. 

FORESTALLED. 

Wellesley Terrace, Grand street, Bayswatcr, was a 
quiet and highly respectable neighborhood, within eight 
minutes’ walk of Kensington Gardens. The Terrace 
consisted of a dozen detached houses, each having a 
small square grass plot in front, and separated from 
each other and from the street by tall brick walls. 

These houses, three stories in height, of bright red 
brick, with bay-windows extending from foundation to 
roof, were for the most part occupied by professional 


86 


Beatrix Rohan. 


men. There was a doctor at one dwelling, an artist 
at another, two or three legal gentleman in others, a 
half-pay army officer at another. Number twelve was 
occupied as a girl’s school. Number four was Mrs. 
Punnet’s very select lodging-house. 

It was to this highly respectable neighborhood then, 
and to Mrs. Punnet’s select lodging-house, that the 
fugitive Beatrix Rohan had been directed by her 
eccentric traveling companion, Mrs. Trevor. 

It was about nine o’clock in the evening when the 
cab containing Beatrix entered Grand street and pur- 
sued its journey at a decreasing rate of speed. The 
evening was that upon which occurred the events nar- 
rated in the preceding chapter. There was a fine, 
drizzling mist in the air. The gas-lamps emitted a pale 
and sickly glimmer. The April night seemed suddenly 
to have grown drear and cheerless. Beatrix pressed 
her face against the glass and looked out with wistful, 
intent gaze. The cabman slackened the pace of his 
horse to a walk as he neared Wellesley Terrace, and 
the girl noticed the lighted, pleasant bay windows, 
across some of which light forms were flitting, and a 
strange, homesick feeling swelled her heart. 

For a year before her imprisonment at the chateau 
Valbeck, she had traveled with her relatives throughout 
Europe. Previous to that year of travel she had been 
the inmate for five years of a French school. She had 
never had a home since her infancy. A home seemed 
to her an earthly paradise. 

The cab drew up before the gate of number four. 
The cabman alighted and pulled the garden-bell. A 
boy in buttons answered the summons. Beatrix paid 
her fare, alighted, and hurried up the garden-walk to 
the shelter of the doorway, and sounded the brass 
knocker nervously. 


Forestalled. 


87 


A neat-looking- housemaid, wearing a spotless white 
cap, opened the door. 

“ Is Mrs. Punnet at home ?” asked the young lady. 

“ Yes, Miss,” was the answer, the housemaid taking 
in the fact at a glance that the visitor was a lady, and 
looking beyond Beatrix for her escort, “ If you will step 
up to the drawing-room, Miss, I will call her.” 

The maid ushered her up a winding stair to the draw- 
ing-room, which was a pleasant apartment overlooking 
the street, and having its entire front occupied by the 
large bay-window. A fire was burning in the grate, and 
two gas-jets in the gasolier overhead were lighted. 

Beatrix sat down in a large chair before the hearth. 
She had become comfortably warmed when the rust- 
ling of a woman's garments were heard, and the lodg- 
ing-house keeper entered. 

Beatrix arose, bowing courteously. 

Mrs. Punnet was an elderly woman, dressed in black 
silk, portly of figure, with a large, round, good-natured 
face, in which were set a pair of very pale blue eyes, 
whose every glance was of keenest scrutiny. 

She returned the girl’s bow with an elaborate 
courtsy. 

“ I am the bearer of a letter to you, Mrs. Punnet, 
from Mrs. Trevor,” said the fugitive heiress, producing 
the missive. “ You will discover in the letter my 
errand.” 

Mrs. Punnet invited her to resume her seat, and 
Beatrix complied, while the former read the letter. 

When she had finished it, she said, pleasantly : 

“ Your application for a room is very well timed, Miss 
Trist. I have three rooms vacant, the family who occu- 
pied them having left me yesterday for a house of their 
own. I shall be pleased to show them to you. They 
were put in order to-day, and I expected to find tenants 


88 


Beatrix Rohan . 


for them before the week’s end. I have a single room 
upon the upper floor at the back at a guinea, and a suite 
of rooms directly above this at five guineas, which 
includes attendance. I am sorry that I have nothing 
between. The third floor front is let.” 

“ Please show me your second floor, Mrs. Punnet. I 
think that will suit me.” 

The lodging-house keeper summoned a servant, and 
ordered her to light the vacant rooms. Then she con- 
ducted Beatrix to the suite she had mentioned. 

It was upon the second floor — that is, the floor above 
the drawing-room, and consisted of a parlor, bed-room, 
dressing-room, and bath-room. 

The parlor was made charming by the big bay-win- 
dow. The floor was covered by a bright, new crimson 
carpet ; there were crimson curtains at the window, 
crimson chairs and couches. The walls were covered 
with a crimson flock paper, picked out with gold, and a 
few good engravings in gilt frames were hung upon 
them. 

Altogether, the room was pleasant, and cosy, and 
snug, and its look of warmth and brightness were very 
pleasing to Beatrix. 

The bedroom was separated from the parlor by fold- 
ing-doors, and was spotlessly clean. The carpet here 
was new also, the bedstead of polished brass, the linen 
white and lavender-scented. The dressing-room was 
quite small, and had windows opening upon a yard at 
the back. This last was furnished equally well with 
the other rooms of the suite, having long, crimson cur- 
tains, a couple of engravings on the wall, a long, swing- 
ing toilet-glass, and a long wall-mirror. 

“Of course the attendance will be of the best,” said 
Mrs. Punnet, exhibiting the handsome and commodious 
wardrobe. “ The housemaid gives especial care to 


Forestalled. 


89 


these rooms, and is very prompt at answering the bell. 
Your meals will all be cooked for you, and served at any 
hour you may wish. I will myself do your marketing, 
and will present the bills as you may require.” 

“ I will take the rooms, Madame,” said Beatrix. “ I 
have dismissed the cab, and will enter into possession 
now, if you please. I have traveled from Brussels 
to-day, and should like a hot supper, if convenient. 
Send me up anything you may have.” 

Mrs. Punnet withdrew to execute the order, after 
touching a match to the neatly-laid fire. 

Beatrix laid aside her hat and cloak and traveling-bag, 
which was still attached to her belt. She brushed the 
dust from her garments and made a hasty toilet in her 
dressing-room. 

When she returned to her parlor she found her table 
neatly laid, and the housemaid in the act of depositing 
a steaming tray upon it. 

“ Supper is ready, Miss,” said the maid, removing the 
covers. “ Is there anything more you will have ?” 

Beatrix smiled a negative. The supper seemed to 
her absolutely sumptuous. She was still half-famished. 
Her month’s starvation upon bread and water at the 
Chateau Valbeck had made her very thin and weak, and 
her longing for food was something ravenous. Mrs. 
Punnet had sent up to her a juicy beefsteak, stewed 
potatoes, toasted muffins and hot coffee, with an apology 
for having nothing better to offer. Beatrix dismissed 
the housemaid and ate her supper leisurely, her weak- 
ness beginning to give place to a growing strength and 
cheerfulness. 

After her table had been cleared again, and Mrs. 
Punnet had been up again to inquire if Miss Trist 
wanted anything, exhibiting a respectful and kindly 


90 


Beatrix Rohan, 


interest in her beautiful young lodger, Beatrix sat down 
again in the warm glow of her fire. 

“ This is a pleasant and a safe refuge,” she thought, 
with a warm glow of gratitude to the Providence that 
had so signally befriended her. “ How God has watched 
over and guided me ! How difficult was my escape 
from the Chateau Valbeck ! What perils I encountered 
then — and afterward on that lonely road — and after- 
ward in the farmer’s cart — and after that at the Ant- 
werp inn — and again at the Hotel de Flandre at 
Brussels ! God has been good to me !” 

Her soul swelled with her grateful love to him ! 

She thought of her past, of her future. The little 
clock upon the mantelpiece struck the hour of eleven, 
and she aroused herself as from a trance. She went 
into her snug little dressing-room and disrobed. After 
a bath she went to bed, and slept until a late hour of 
the following morning. 

She had locked the doors of her bedroom which 
opened into her parlor upon retiring, but had left her 
parlor door unlocked. After she had fully dressed herself 
she came out into her parlor. It had been swept and 
dusted, and put into perfect order. A fire glowed 
redly in the grate. The breakfast-table was spread, 
and upon it lay the morning newspaper. 

Beatrix greeted her housemaid with the gentle 
courtesy that always distinguished her manner, and sat 
down to the perusal of the morning news. Her break- 
fast was brought up almost immediately, and was 
well cooked and well served. 

After the meal, the young lady ordered a cab to be 
brought for her. It was nearly eleven o’clock, and 
Beatrix was anxious to call upon the trustees of her 
property without further delay. 

“ I must see them, if possible, before the Brands can 


Forestalled. 


9 * 


see them,” she said to herself. “ In any case, I am 
sure they will protect me.” 

Her toilet was already made. She had no need of 
her water-proof cloak, the day being fine, and having 
put on her hat she descended to the cab, which was in 
waiting. 

Her trustees were two in number. Both were men 
of the most uncompromising integrity, men who 
abhorred speculations, and who were even old-fashioned 
in their ideas, preferring government consols at three 
per cent, as an investment rather than the stocks and 
shares which, paying high rates of interest, tempt so 
many of our modern business men. 

Beatrix knew that her fortune was secured to her in 
such a manner that her trustees, even were they 
inclined to prove unfaithful to their trust, could not 
alienate one penny of it from her. But she knew also 
that they were men of marked probity. Her wealth 
was safe in their hands. Would they not take equal 
care of the owner of that wealth ? 

She knew the addresses of these gentlemen. 

Mr. Dunlap, the elder, was married, and lived in Cav- 
endish Square. 

Mr. Hillsley, the younger, was a bachelor, and main- 
tained an establishment in Upper Berkeley Street. 

She resolved to go to Mr. Dunlap first, and gave the 
cabman an order to proceed to Cavendish Square. 

Upon alighting at Mr. Dunlap’s residence, she saw 
that the house was closed, as if uninhabited. Her knock 
was answered by an old woman, evidently a housekeeper, 
who informed her that Mr. Dunlap was gone upon the 
Continent with his family, to be absent a year. 

“ Can you give me his address ?” she asked. 

“ No ma’am,” was the reply. “ He’s in one place one 


9 2 


Beatrix Rohan . 


day and another the next. He was in Greece when he 
last wrote, and was thinking of going further east.” 

Beatrix inclined her head and descended the steps, 
her face shadowed. 

“Upper Berkeley Street,” she said, giving also the 
number. 

The cab next stopped before a handsome mansion in 
the street designated. Beatrix ascended the spotless 
white stone steps and pulled the bell. She noticed that 
the shutters were drawn up at the windows, and that 
the house seemed occupied. 

A liveried footman opened the door. 

“ Is Mr. Hillsley at home ?” asked the visitor. 

“ He is not, ma’am,” was the respectful answer. “ He 
is in the city usually at this hour.” 

Beatrix hesitated. She did not like to go to Mr. 
Hillsley’s office. She could not tell him her story in a 
place where he would be constantly liable to interrup- 
tions. She wanted to see him in the privacy of his own 
house, where, if necessary, she might plead to him for 
friendship and protection. 

“ When will he return home ?” she asked. 

“ At six, ma’am. He drives in the park at four, but 
is always at home to dine at seven. He spends his 
evenings at home.” 

“ Then I will call again this evening,” said Beatrix 
“ I will not leave my name.” 

She descended the steps and drove away. 

“ A real lady,” thought the footman. “ I couldn’t see 
her face her vail was so thick, but she had the low, calm 
voice of a genuine lady. I suppose she’s another appli- 
cant for that situation of governess in the family of Mr. 
Hillsley’s sister down in Herts. That makes three 
young ladies that have called to-day in answer to mas- 


Forestalled. 


93 


ter’s advertisement. They can’t all of them get it, 
more’s the pity.” 

Beatrix returned to Wellesley Terrace. The day 
dragged slowly enough to her. At eight o’clock in the 
evening, her cab arrived for her, and she proceeded 
again to Upper Berkeley Street. 

The footman she had seen in the morning now gave 
her admittance. 

“ I mentioned to Mr. Hillsley that you had called in 
regard to the situation of governess, Miss,” he remarked, 
“ and he will see you. He has sent away one young 
lady this evening as didn’t suit. He is engaged just 
now. Just step in here and wait until he is at liberty !” 

He conducted her down the long hall, to a room near 
its further end into which he ushered her, then returned 
to his post. 

The apartment in which Beatrix thus found herself 
was ill-lighted. A door into the adjoining library was 
slightly ajar, and a long ruddy gleam of light entered 
through the aperture. The fugitive heiress took a seat 
among the shadows and waited. 

She was all anxiety and impatience. She wished that 
she had sent in her name to Mr. Hillsley. 

In the midst of her troubled thoughts, the sound of 
voices reached her hearing. 

Someone was talking in the library. 

She recognized the voice as that of Mr. Hillsley, but 
she did not understand his words. 

“ You see, Mr. Hillsley,” answered another voice, 
whose smoothness and gentleness were like the softness 
of the tiger, “ the girl is my wife’s niece, and as willful 
a creature as ever lived. Heaven knows the trouble 
we have had with her. Still, she is Selina’s niece, and 
we must find her, and endeavor to do our duty by her. 
You have not seen her, you say. Then she has not yet 


94 


Beatrix Rohan . 


reached England. Her first thought would be, I think, 
to come to England and to you with her lying stories." 

Beatrix was as if chained to the spot. 

In coming to Mr. Hillsley, she had entered into the 
very presence of her enemy. The voice which had last 
spoken was the voice of Colonel Brand. 


CHAPTER XI. 

AT BAY ! 

Beatrix was unable to retreat, or to reveal her pres- 
ence, in the first shock of her discovery that her appeal 
to Mr. Hillsley had been forestalled by her enemy. 

Colonel Brand here in London, under the same roof 
with herself, and only a few feet distant from her ! 
She had encountered many and terrible perils to escape 
from him, and here he was in the next room, his voice 
reaching her very hearing ! 

She shrank back amid the shadows of the little, ill- 
lighted back parlor of Mr. Hillsley’s house, and totally 
unconscious of the near proximity of a third person, the 
two men continued their conversation. 

“ Your communication distresses me greatly, Colonel 
Brand," said Mr. Hillsley, in a disturbed voice. “ I 
regret exceedingly the absence from England at this 
time, of my friend and associate- trustee, Mr. Dunlap ; 
but, as you have already ascertained, he is somewhere 
in Greece, and his exact address is not known." 

“ I am very positive," said Colonel Brand, in a silvery 
voice, “ that Beatrix would hasten to England. Find- 
ing Mr. Dunlap absent, she would throw herself upon 


A t Bay ! 


95 


your protection, Mr. Hillsley. She is sufficiently artful 
to endeavor to arouse your chivalrous pity with some 
lying tale. Oh, the misery that unhappy girl has caused 
us ! My poor Selina’s hair is streaked with gray 
through her many anxieties on account of Beatrix !” 

Colonel Brand sighed heavily. 

“ Are you sure, Colonel, that Miss Rohan has arrived 
in England ?” asked Mr. Hillsley. 

“ By no means, sir. She may he in Belgium, in Hol- 
land, or in France. We were residing, as I explained, 
temporarily in a romantic old chateau within twenty 
miles of Antwerp, when my poor niece fled from us. 
My son is still at Ostend, watching there for her to 
embark for England. Mrs. Brand is to-day in France, 
watching the French ports. A servant is at Amster- 
dam, also looking for her. I crossed from Ostend 
to-day, and am come at once to you, in the hope of 
hearing something of our miserable young relative.” 

“ And I have not seen nor heard from her, Colonel. 
Can she have fled with a lover ?” 

“ It is possible,” replied Colonel Brand, knowing very 
well that he lied. “ I have long thought that she had a 
secret lover. Selina loves her niece as if she were her 
daughter, and is heartbroken upon her account, yet I 
assure you, Mr. Hillsley, the girl is hot-tempered, rebel- 
lious, wayward, and altogether froward. Her escapade 
may be due to her wildly romantic notions. I never 
saw such a girl before in my life !” 

“ I supposed,” said Mr. Hillsley, quietly, “ that Miss 
Rohan was engaged to marry your son — ” 

“ And so she was,” said Colonel Brand, unblushingly. 
“ She was solemnly betrothed to him by her own desire. 
Randall fairly worships her. He is ready to forgive her 
escapade and to marry her to-morrow. With her 
youth and beauty, Mr. Hillsley, I tremble for her. 


9 6 


Beatrix Rohan . 


Where is she to-night ? Heaven only knows ! She 
seems to have repented her betrothal to my son — she 
pretends to hate him — she even may deny that she ever 
promised to marry him. If she comes to you, Mr. 
Hillsley, I beg you to send for me to confront her !” 

“ I will do so,” was the reply. “ I do not see why a 
man who abhors all noise and confusion, all trouble of 
every kind, should be drawn into an unpleasant affair 
like this. Is it not enough that I look after her prop- 
erty without having to look after her ? She will 
attain her majority a year hence, and I must say, Colo- 
nel, that I shall be glad to relinquish the care of her 
future into her own hands, since she is the person you 
describe her." 

The cheeks of the fugitive heiress flushed hotly. Her 
soul swelled with indignation. Mr. Hillsley had 
promised to send for Colonel Brand to confront her 
upon her appearance at the house of the former. As 
she must meet her enemy at some time, why not meet 
him at once ? 

Trusting to the justice of her cause, believing that 
the right must triumph, having a conviction that Mr. 
Hillsley could not hear her story and disbelieve it, 
indignant at the false accusations against her, Beatrix 
glided swiftly across the room and pushed open the 
folding-doors, pausing upon the threshold in a full 
blaze of light. 

The eyes of the two men turned toward her. 

Colonel Brand leaped to his feet. 

“ Beatrix !” he gasped. 

The girl smiled bitterly. 

“ Yes, it is Beatrix, Colonel Brand,” she said, her 
young voice full of haughty scorn, her dusk eyes glow- 
ing with a strange sternness. 

Mr. Hillsley arose also, and regarded her keenly. 

























. 

. 

















* 'i 


















I, 








At Bay! 


97 


He beheld a slim, graceful girl, of a rare and extraor- 
dinary beauty, with low, wide brows ; great purple-gray 
eyes full of lights and shadows ; a rose-leaf complexion, 
upon which the color came and went ; and a mass of 
tawny, burnished hair, which rippled away from her 
forehead. A beautiful face, exquisite as a rare cameo 
in its clear-cut features, but a proud and spirited face 
also, full of fire and indignation, of outraged pride and 
haughty anger. 

And Beatrix returned Mr. Hillsley’s regards with 
equal intentness. 

She beheld a little, elderly man, with a rosy face and 
stout figure, who had a well-fed look, and whom one 
would judge to be a gourmand. 

Mr. Hillsley, as he had indicated in his remarks to 
Colonel Brand, was a disciple of the Epicurean philoso- 
phy. He liked good living. He hated care and trouble. 
He abhorred all noise and confusion. He hated the 
sound of loud speaking. He always walked — when he 
walked at all — upon the sunny side of the street. His 
carriages were cushioned luxuriously and furnished with 
noiseless springs. His servants walked in list slippers 
in his house and spoke in whispers. He was persuaded 
that he was endowed with a marvellously fine organiza- 
tion, and shielded himself from rude contact with the 
world with sedulous care. At his office, a cordon of 
clerks guarded him from rude approach ; at his own 
home he treated himself as a being formed of the finest 
porcelain which no rude wind must be allowed to jar. 

This, then, was the gentleman whom Beatrix expected 
to befriend her ! This Sybaritic, indolent person, she 
expected to battle for her ! 

“You are Beatrix Rohan, Mrs. Brand’s run-away 
niece ?” said Mr. Hillsley, interrogatively. 

“ I am Beatrix Rohan,” said the girl, lifting her 


9 8 


Beatrix Rohan , 


tawny head proudly. “ And you, I suppose, are Mr. 
Hillsley. I called here this morning, but you were 
gone to the City. I called again this evening, as 
directed by your servant, and was ushered into this 
room adjoining your library. I have heard something 
of your conversation with Colonel Brand. He has not 
told you the truth — ” 

“Beatrix!” cried Colonel Brand, reproachfully. “My 
child, do you mean to say that I have lied ?” 

Beatrix bestowed one sweeping, scornful glance upon 
her enemy, whose black ferret eyes were glittering, and 
whose long thin nose was working itself nervously 
above his full, black beard and whose low, retreating 
forehead exhibited a threatening scowl, and then she 
coolly turned her back upon him. 

“ Mr. Hillsley,” she said, trying to speak calmly, yet 
unable to conquer the thrill of indignation that made 
her voice tremulous, “ I am come here to claim your 
protection from these Brands. You were my father’s 
friend. He entrusted the care of my fortune to you. 
Will you not take charge of his daughter also ? Will 
you not protect me from these people who are eager to 
destroy my life or my happiness ?” 

“My dear young lady!” expostulated Mr. Hillsley, 
in a shocked voice. “You absolutely frighten me. 
Your — your vehemence renders me nervous. Calm 
yourself, Miss Rohan. And sit down. Take this chair 
and compose yourself.” 

He wheeled a chair towards her. Beatrix sat down in 
it, but she could not calm her eager, earnest, flashing 
eyes, nor repress the excitement and prayerfulness that 
shone from every lovely feature of her face. 

“ I know that Colonel Brand has prejudiced you 
against me, Mr. Hillsley,” .she said, “ but I beseech you 
to hear my story. I will make it brief. I was never 


A t Bay / 


99 


betrothed to Randall Brand. I would as soon wed with 
a tiger of the jungle as with Randall Brand ! He is 
cruel, wicked, a savage at heart, unscrupulous and 
unprincipled. I hate him ! I loathe him !” 

“ You see, Mr. Hillsley,” whispered Colonel Brand, 
hissingly. “ She is mad — mad as a March hare.” 

“ Dear me ! dear me !” cried Mr. Hillsley, distress- 
fully. “ My dear Miss Rohan, pray moderate your 
excitement. I beg you to express yourself in milder 
terms. A young lady should hate no one. You wrong 
your cousin. I consider Mr. Brand a gentleman.” 

“ Because you don’t know him,” said Beatrix, undaunt- 
edly. “ Colonel Brand has given you his opinion of me. 
Permit me to give you my opinion of him. He is false 
to his trust as a guardian, he is an oppressor of the 
orphan, he is the worthy father of his son, he is eager 
to compass my death or to force me into an obnoxious 
marriage ” 

“ Oh, Beatrix ! Beatrix !” cried Colonel Brand, put- 
ting his handkerchief to his eyes, apparently overcome 
with grief. “ I have loved you as my own child, and 
now I realize the words of Shakespere when he says, 

‘ How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a 
thankless child !’ ” 

* Mr. Hillsley looked from one to the other of his guests 
with a troubled face. 

His sympathies were all in favor of Colonel Brand. 
That gentleman had made good use of his opportunity, 
and had completely forestalled Beatrix in her revela- 
tions. Mr. Hillsley had known the Brands for many 
years, and believed them to be honorable, upright, and 
wealthy. They were of good family, with aristocratic 
connections. He believed them incapable of wrong- 
doing, and considered Beatrix a headstrong, self-willed, 
romantic girl, with an ill-balanced brain. 


IOO 


Beatrix Rohan . 


“ My dear Colonel, my dear Miss Rohan,” said Mr. 
Hillsley, “ let me reconcile you two. Miss Beatrix, will 
you not apologize to your good uncle for the trouble 
you have caused him ? And, Colonel, will you not for- 
give and take back to your home this wayward young 
lady, who cannot be oblivious of all your love and care 
for her, despite her recent action ?” 

“ Willingly !” cried Colonel Brand. “ I will take the 
dear girl back to my heart and home — to the sorrowing 
aunt who awaits her with open arms and more than a 
mother’s love ! I can forgive all. Beatrix, will you 
come ?’ 

The girl paid no heed to the question. 

“ Mr. Hillsley,” she said, “ you are mistaken in this 
man. For a month before I effected my escape from 
the house he had taken in Belgium, he and his wife kept 
me closely confined in an upper room of that dwelling, 
and the only food they allowed me was bread and water. 
They meant to starve me into consenting to marry 
their son. See how thin I am !” and she held up her 
nearly transparent hands and shrunken wrists. “ Upon 
the night of my escape, they reduced even the scanty 
fare they had allowed me one-third ! I cut out two of 
the iron bars covering my windows with an old, broken 
table-knife. I let myself down into the courtyard by £ 
rope I had manufactured out of my clothes. I climbed 
the high outer wall, just escaping the fangs of their 
watch-dog. I ran through the howling storm and the 
darkness until I dropped exhausted. I scarcely under- 
stand yet how I escaped my pursuers. But I have 
reached your house in safety. And in my father’s 
name, Mr. Hillsley, in the great name of humanity, I 
implore you to protect and befriend me !” 

“ But, my dear Miss Rohan, what would you have me 

do r 


At Bay / 


IOI 


“ I would have you apply to the Orphan’s Court— is 
there not such a court ? — for a new guardian for me. 
Let me become your ward, Mr. Hillsley, or a ward of 
Chancery !” 

The girl’s voice was wild with imploring. A sense of 
her peril pressed sharply upon her. Her dusk-gray 
eyes were full of agonized beseeching. Mr. Hillsley 
was strangely disturbed, yet half angry that his love of 
ease should be so outraged. 

“ Poor child !” sighed Colonel Brand, and his long, 
thin nose arched itself restlessly above his bearded 
mouth. “ My poor romantic Beatrix ! Must her 
infirmity of mind be declared to the curious world ?” 

“ Miss Rohan,” said Mr. Hillsley, upon whom the 
colonel’s sotto voce utterances had full effect, “if you 
have indeed received such treatment as you aver, the 
law will come to your aid. But you have made very 
serious charges against your relatives. Can you prove 
these charges ? Did any one ever witness these scenes 
of oppression at the hands of your guardians ?” 

“ No one could witness them, sir. I was shut up alone 
in my own rooms. No servant was ever allowed to see 
me. My aunt brought me my humble fare with her 
own hands.” 

“ Was your aunt as cruel as you allege your uncle to 
have been ? I remember Mrs. Brand as a handsome 
woman of society, courteous, well-bred. She is, in fact, 
a distant relative of my own,” added Mr. Hillsley, “ and 
I certainly cannot believe anything against her.” 

“Yet,” cried the girl bitterly, “ she is a hard, pitiless, 
arrogant woman. She is as selfish and unscrupulous as 
her husband and son — ” 

“ Come, come !” interposed Mr. Hillsley, for the first 
time betraying any personal feeling, his face flushing. 
“This wholesale denunciation but injures your case, 


102 


Beatrix Rohan . 


Miss Rohan. Mrs. Brand is my own relative. I know, 
her to be incapable of harshness or wrong-doing. She 
has been directress of a dozen benevolent societies 
She is uniformly kind to the poor. I might have 
believed that there was some foundation of fact for 
your story, if you had not attacked Mrs Brand. But 
now — ” 

He shook his head significantly. 

“ Do you not believe me, sir ?’* 

“ How can I, Miss Rohan ? All the facts bear against 
you. You have no witness to prove your truthfulness. 
I am sorry to discredit your tale, but I am persuaded 
that were your mind better balanced you would cut off 
your right hand rather than to assail your kind rela- 
tives as you have done !” 

Mr. Hillsley spoke kindly, yet with a severity that 
proved his sincerity. 

Beatrix hastened to utter a protest and to tell her 
story anew, calmly and intelligibly, appealing to her 
trustee with all the fervor of her passionate young 
nature. Colonel Brand frequently interjected his com- 
ments, of which she took no notice, and his long nose 
worked itself convulsively and incessantly, after his 
strange peculiarity. 

When Beatrix had finished, Mr. Hillsley said gravely : 

“ Still I fail to be convinced, Miss Rohan, that your 
wild story is true. Now listen to me. What evidence 
have you to offer in support of your declarations? 
None whatever save your unsupported word. I am 
putting the case now, you see, as it would be put in a 
case-at-law, or indeed as any sensible person would put 
it. On one side is your unsupported word. Upon the 
other is the evidence of three persons, a lady and two 
gentlemen, all of assured position, of benevolent 
character, of high connections, and possessed of wealth. 


At Bay ! 


103 


Already your case is lost. But add to the state- 
ment I have made concerning Mr. and Mrs. Brand 
and their son the fact that Mrs. Brand is } T our nearest 
living relative, your late father’s only sister, the lady 
chosen by him to be your guardian, to watch over your 
youthful years, to guide your youthful life, to be in 
short a mother to you in place of the mother of whom 
you were so early bereaved. Your father knew his 
sister well. In his last days, when approaching death 
caused him to be anxious about the future of his only 
child, when he must have had a clear insight into men 
and things, whom did he fix upon to take his place 
toward his orphan child ? Whom but Colonel and Mrs. 
Brand, his beloved sister and her husband ? You were 
placed then in charge of these relatives by your own 
father. Miss Rohan, it seems to me that you have 
treated these kind friends with a base ingratitude. It 
seems to me that you ought to return to these foster- 
parents with prayers of forgiveness for your folly ?” 

“You refuse utterly to believe me ?” demanded Bea- 
trix, her dusk and tearless eyes glittering, her face 
growing very white. “ Have I failed alike to touch 
your heart and your belief, Mr. Hillsley ? Have you 
no pity for a wronged, unhappy girl, whose only crime 
is that she is an heiress ? These Brands are scheming 
for my property. If I will give it to them and myself 
with it, I shall be allowed to live. But if I refuse to 
marry their son, and I am returned into their keeping, 
they will never allow me to attain my majority ! I 
shall die within the year !” 

“ The girl is mad !” ejaculated Colonel Brand, in 
accents of profound horror. “ My poor Beatrix ! My 
unhappy child !” 

Mr. Hillsley arose abruptly. 

“ Miss Rohan,” he said, sternly, “ I cannot listen to 


104 


Beatrix Rohan . 


these terrible aspersions upon the characters of my 
friends. I can only believe that you have not entire 
control over your mind. 1 am a peace-loving man, 
fond of quiet ; but I assure you if I credited one word 
of your wild tale, I would move heaven and earth, if 
necessary, to free you. But I don’t believe it. Such 
deeds of wrong and oppression are not perpetrated in 
this prosaic and commonplace nineteenth century ! 
You are too romantic by nature. Or you have an 
unbalanced mind. I decline to interfere in the case. I 
advise you to return quietly to Antwerp with your 
guardian. The year of your minority will pass swiftly, 
and you will then become absolutely your own 
mistress !” 

“ You hear, Beatrix ?” said Colonel Brand. “ Mr. Hills- 
ley will not help you. Return with me to Belgium, to 
your aunt — your doting second mother. She will for- 
give you and take you back to her heart. If you have 
conceived such an aversion to your cousin Randall, I 
will send him back to England. I will study all your 
whims and caprices, I will aim to ‘ minister to a mind 
diseased * with all the skill I can acquire !” 

“You are the generous man I supposed, Colonel,” 
said Mr. Hillsley, warmly. “You are incapable of 
treasuring up the accusations of this unhappy child 
against her. You will continue to act towards her the 
part of a loving, forbearing parent. Some day she will 
thank you for this goodness.” 

“ And now,” said Colonel Brand, also arising, “ we 
will not trouble you further, Mr. Hillsley, in this 
unhappy affair. I propose to return to Belgium, start- 
ing this very night by the tidal train. We have, in 
fact, no time to lose. Allow me to thank you, sir, for 
the expressions of your continued faith in Mrs. 
Brand and myself. Our honor is especially dear to us. 


A t Bay / 


105 


To have it aspersed is to attack ns in a vital point. Rest 
assured, Mr. Hillsley, we shall continue to deserve 
your good opinion. We shall be very loving and 
tender to our dear, misguided niece.” 

He turned upon the trustee a countenance indicative 
of pity and unbounded affection for his “ misguided 
niece” — a countenance made up of gentleness and pro- 
foundest sorrow. Then he slowly turned the glances 
of his ferret eyes on Beatrix, and his face became like 
the face of a Satyr. It .expressed a fiendish delight and 
exultation. It abounded in an awful threatening. 

Beatrix shrank back appaHed. 

“ Come, my darling,” saiu Colonel Brand, softly, his 
silvery tones unruffled. “ Say good-bye to Mr. Hills- 
ley. My cab is still waiting. We will go.” 

“ Never !” ejaculated the girl. “ Never ! I will not 
go to Belgium with you, Colonel Brand ! I’ll die first !” 

“ Miss Rohan !” cried Mr. Hillsley, reprovingly. 

“You have refused to befriend me, sir,” said Beatrix, 
“ and I shall appeal to the first person I meet. I will 
struggle for my liberty and life. Colonel Brand, you 
shall not take me with you alive ! I will scream for 
help — I will call for the police ! Stand back ! I warn 
you — both of you — not to touch me !” 

She retreated toward the door, white, wild, and pant- 
ing, her eyes like those of a wild deer, her attitude that 
of some hunted creature who had turned at bay. 

“ Stand back !” she repeated. “ Move a step nearer 
and I will call out murder /” 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE USURPER’S VOW. 

Lady Folliott returned to the private parlor of the 
false Miss Bermyngham before the expiration of the 
time she had specified. She had exchanged her travel- 
ing costume of brown silk and cashmere for a trained 
robe of prune-colored velvet, with high corsage and close 
sleeves, the neck and wrists plentifully trimmed with 
point lace. 

Her gray hair, being very abundant, was arranged 
with due regard to the fashion of the day ; and, being 
massed upon the top of her head, added greatly to the 
queenliness of her appearance. She was stately, hand- 
some, dignified, with a certain grandeur of countenance 
and carriage, that were very impressive. She was 
noble and commanding. The impostor dimly felt that 
her ladyship could be a very powerful friend or she 
could be a dangerous enemy. 

Something more was necessary than simply to con- 
vince the baroness that the usurper was the true heiress. 
The girl felt that she must win the lady’s love and 
trust ; must ingratiate herself in the lady’s confidence ; 
must strengthen her false position at every point. To 
omit doing this could not bring suspicion upon her 
claims ; but to accomplish these desirable things would 
be an additional triumph, an extra security. 

[106] 



The Usurper s Vow. 


107 


She ran forward to meet Lady Folliott, in a pretty 
childish way, a long red-gold curl that hung over her 
shoulders flying, her pretty pink-and-white face all 
childish delight and eagerness. 

“ Dear Aunt Folliott !” she cried, presenting her red 
mouth for a kiss in the most artless manner possible. 
“ It seems as if you had been gone an age ! I could 
hardly restrain my impatience for your return. And 
what a lovely, lovely lady you are, to be sure ! I am so 
proud of you, Aunt Folliott !” 

This little outburst of girlish enthusiasm, which had 
been planned carefully by the practised actress, seemed 
to Lady Folliott very charming. She caressed the girl 
with genuine pleasure, as she said, smiling : 

“You are three-and-twenty years of age, Nerea, but 
a child yet. I hope it may be many years before you 
lose your sweet artlessness.” 

The waiter entered at this juncture, and deposited 
the soup-tureen upon the table. 

The ladies took their places, and were served. 

The dinner was elaborate, the pretended heiress hav- 
ing ordered it for her own especial gratification. The girl 
chattered incessantly throughout the meal in a gay, 
light-hearted way and sipped her wine, and lingered 
over her dessert, evidently greatly enjoying the gratifi- 
cation of her appetite. 

After dinner, when the waiter had removed the equi- 
page, even to the table, Lady Folliott throned herself 
in an easy-chair, and the girl drew up a hassock and 
sat down at the lady’s feet, laying her cheek against the 
lady’s knees. 

“ Do you know, dear Aunt Folliott,” she said, softly, 
“ that I mean to be a daughter to you ? And I want 
you to be a mother to me, and love me, and tell me my 
faults, and make much of me, you know. Papa always 


io8 


Beatrix Rohan. 


petted me. I can’t live without being petted. I am 
only just a foolish little thing, dear Aunt Folliott, and I 
would do anything for any one who loves me.” 

“ My dear little girl,” cried the baroness, with tears 
in her eyes. “You were made to be loved, and I love 
you already. How have you lived since your father’s 
death without sheltering care and protecting tender- 
ness ? I shall guard you very carefully, my darling. 
I wonder how you have lived to your present age 
without loving and being loved.” 

“Oh, I have been loved!” cried the impostor. “I 
have had hosts of lovers, Aunt Folliott. There was 
even an old general who wanted me to marry him as 
his second wife, you know, but I didn’t fancy any of 
them. I hated to leave India, because I had an odd 
idea that I had inherited papa’s disease and should die 
on the journey home to England, but then I could 
never have borne the idea of spending all my days out 
there. If I were to marry,” and she drooped her face 
to hide imaginary blushes, “ I should like to settle in 
England. There’s no place like England.” 

“ I am glad to hear you say that, my dear. And I 
am glad that you have brought home a whole heart. I 
am no match-maker, Nerea, but I would like to see you 
happily settled, with a husband who could appreciate 
you. With your beauty and wealth you can make a 
grand marriage. I said that I was no match-maker. 
But I am,” and the baroness smiled. “ I have a plan 
for your future which I hope to see realized.” 

“ What is it, Aunt Folliott ? Is it — is it about Sir 
Lionel Charlton,” the impostor whispered. 

Lady Folliott looked tenderly down upon the pretty 
face upon her knee, upon the heavy down-dropped eye- 
lids— she had not yet noticed that the false Miss Ber- 


The Usurper s Vow. 


109 


myngham’s eyes were generally downcast — and upon 
the fluffy red-gold hair. 

“Yes, my dear,” she said — “yes, Nerea, darling. My 
plan concerns Sir Lionel Charlton.” 

“ Tell me about him. Is he handsome ?” 

“ He is very handsome, and as good and noble as he 
is handsome. His age is the same as yours. He has 
his faults, I suppose ; we all have, unless you are an 
exception to the rule, dear, as you seem to be,” said the 
baroness, fondly, “ but his faults spring from the very 
excess of virtues. He is brave, generous, kind. He 
inherited from his father the baronetcy, and a great 
estate which was encumbered with mortgages to two- 
thirds its value. For the first year or two after coming 
into his inheritance, Lionel was reckless and wild ; but 
I know, Nerea, that he never did one thing unbecoming 
a man of honor and a gentleman. His great fault con- 
sisted in spending money too freely, in giving right and 
left, in a too lavish generosity to persons who, finding 
his weakness, preyed upon it. But he has changed all 
that.” 

“ How, Aunt Folliott ? I hope he is not miserly.” 

“ Heaven forbid ! He could not be miserly. It is 
not in his nature. He has conquered his spendthrift 
weakness : but he is generous still. He has devoted 
himself to the care of his estate, and the larger part of 
his income from it is annually paid upon the mortgages. 
But it will take him ten years to free his property from 
encumbrance — ten years of toil and frugality. He has 
a very nice sense of honor. He has never loved, and 
has a chivalrous idea that he will never marry except 
for love. Now I own to you, Nerea, that I should like, 
above all things, to see you Sir Lionel Charlton’s wife.” 

“ But he is not rich !” sighed the impostor. 

“ No, he is not rich now ; but when the debt is paid 


I IO 


Beatrix Rohan . 


off his estate, he will have an income of seven thousand 
a year. Of all women in the world, Nerea, you can 
afford to marry for love !” 

“ Yes, I know,” said the false Miss Bermyngham, 
“ and if I like Sir Lionel Charlton, and if he likes 
me, you know — ” 

She paused in seeming girlish confusion. 

“ You will like him and he will like you, Nerea,” said 
Lady Folliott, with a smile. “ There is no possibility 
that you will dislike each other. And I really think 
you ought to marry Sir Lionel for other reasons. In 
the first place, he is your distant relative upon your 
father’s side, and if you were to die unmarried and 
without a will he would inherit your wealth.” 

The impostor started. 

“ Is it possible ?” she ejaculated. “ I didn’t know — I 
had forgotten — ” 

“ It is nevertheless true. Your mother was my sister, 
Nerea, and lived with me at Folliott Court a year or 
two after my marriage. While in my husband’s house, 
she became acquainted with my husband’s cousin, Miles 
Bermyngham, a fine young man of ample fortune, and 
of a business turn of mind. My sister fell in love with 
Miles Bermyngham, married him, and went with him 
to India, where you were born, and where your mother 
died. You are, therefore, my own niece, you see, and 
you are also the daughter of my husband’s cousin, 
which makes you a relative of the Folliotts. Sir Lionel 
Charlton is my late husband’s own nephew, and your 
relative, therefore, upon your father’s side.” 

“ I understand now,” said the usurper. 

“ I wonder your father never spoke to you of his 
cousin, who became, in due course of time, Lady 
Charlton, and mother of the present baronet,” said 
Lady Folliott. “She was Lady Clara Folliott, my 
r 


The Usurper s Pow. 


1 1 1 


sister-in-law, and your father, her cousin, loved her 
devotedly. He was nearly heart-broken at her mar- 
riage with Sir William Charlton, yet he subsequently 
married my sister and was very happy. He once told 
me — it was during his visit to Folliott Court fifteen 
years ago — that he should like to live to see you Lionel 
Charlton’s wife, and that if he should survive his wife 
and child, his property should all go to Lionel. He 
made a will to that effect, and it is recorded at Doctor’s 
Commons.” 

This revelation nearly stunned the usurper. Sir 
Lionel Charlton was, then, the rightful owner of the 
dead Nerea Bermyngham’s wealth ! She had not given 
a thought before to the legitimate heir of the Bermyng- 
ham property. She had not even wondered whom it 
was she had defrauded. 

“ I remember hearing papa say something about his 
cousin, Lady Clara, when he was ill,” said the girl, fear- 
ing lest she should betray herself by her agitation, and 
feeling that she ought to say something. 

“ I intend, if you marry Sir Lionel, to leave all that I 
possess to you both at my death,” said Lady Folliott, 
gravely. “ If you refuse to marry him, he shall have 
all. If he declines to marry you, you shall have all. 
My late husband’s property descended to me, with the 
exception of a portion that was entailed, and I had 
money also in my own right. All this is at my abso- 
lute disposal, and I have told you what disposition I 
intend to make of it. I conceive that Sir Lionel has a 
claim upon me equal to that of my niece. But enough 
of business, my dear Nerea. You understand my 
wishes and hopes, and I trust you will try to gratify 
them.” 

“ I will, indeed,” the girl murmured, and she meant 
what she said. “ I can promise you, dear Aunt Folliott, 


1 12 


Beatrix Rohan . 


that it will not be my fault if I am not Lady Charlton 
within a year.” 

And in the depth of her soul the false Miss Bermyng- 
ham registered a vow that she would use every art to 
capture Sir Lionel Charlton, and that she would marry 
him and thus secure to herself beyond possibility of 
loss the fortune she had stolen. 

The next morning Lady Folliott and the impostor, 
attended by their servants, set out for Folliott Court, in 
Lincolnshire. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

AT FOLLIOTT COURT. 

Folliott Court is one of the finest seats in Lincoln- 
shire, comprising a large and productive estate, which, 
although situated within the marshy region known as 
the Fens, is well protected by dykes, thoroughly well 
drained, and very healthful. 

Its half-dozen farms are noted for the native sheep of 
extraordinary size, the great short-horned cattle, and 
the London dray-horses of remarkable endurance, 
which throng their pastures. 

The mansion of Folliott Court crowns a slight 
eminence, and possesses ample home grounds, which 
are to this day surrounded by a well-kept moat some 
twelve feet in width. 

The grounds enclosed by this circular moat comprise 
thirty acres of gardens, shrubberies, grove, and terrace, 
in the centre of which, like a jewel in elaborate casket, 
stands the house. 

In the rear of the mansion, at considerable distance 


A t Folliott Court. 


ii3 


from it, the great clock-tower of the extensive stables 
rises from the midst of encircling trees and forms a 
prominent feature of the place. 

The dwelling is ancient, — a vast pile of brick build- 
ings with stone coping, with tall end towers, and a 
massive stone porch which might fitly form the 
entrance- way to a palace. 

Folliott Court is renowned for its greenhouses, con- 
servatories, its magnificent orangery and forcing-house, 
its pinery and graperies. All that wealth can buy or 
luxury desire seems to have been gathered within the 
circle formed by the old moat. 

Outside the moat stretches the park which is of large 
extent, and the pastures and fields belonging to the 
manor. 

The estate of Folliott Court, singularly enough, is 
freehold. The late Lord Folliott had inherited property 
in the north of England which had been strictly entailed, 
but this had come to him by will from his grandfather, 
and it had descended in the same manner in the family 
since its foundation, sometimes going to an older and 
sometimes to a favorite younger son. The late Lord 
Folliott, being childless, had bequeathed this estate to 
his beloved wife, and aunt of the real Miss Bermyngham, 
absolutely and unfettered by conditions, much of her 
own property having been employed to beautify and 
develop it. 

Folliott Court then was a magnificent prize which its 
present owner, Lady Horatia Folliott had determined 
to bequeath to her husband’s nephew and her own niece, 
should they marry with each other. In case they should 
not so marry, she was resolved to bestow it at her death 
upon that one of the young pair who should not decline 
the alliance. 

As may be supposed, this glorious prize aroused all 


Beatrix Rohan . 


1 14 


the cupidity and greed in the nature of the false Miss 
Bermyngham. The wealth that she had usurped, great 
as it was, could not satisfy her now that she could see a 
possibility of adding another and larger fortune to it. 
As passions grow by what they feed on, so greed had 
now become the ruling passion of the impostor’s being. 
She was determined to make the most of the opportu- 
nities that had fallen in her way ; to marry Sir Lionel 
Charlton, if he were willing ; to inherit Folliott Court 
in any event. 

As the estate was freehold, and as Lady Folliott con- 
sequently could give it to whom she might desire, the 
usurper began to pay court to the baroness after the 
most assiduous fashion, to fawn upon and flatter her, 
but in that pretty, purring kitten-like way that seemed 
childlike, innocent, and the very perfection of artless- 
ness. 

It was the middle of the afternoon, or a little later, 
when Lady Folliott and the false Miss Bermyngham 
arrived at Spalding, and transferred themselves from 
the railway coach to the luxurious Folliott carriage, 
which, with liveried attendants, was in waiting. 

The drive to Folliott Court, in the mild April after- 
noon, across the Lincolnshire fens, was very pleasant. 

An hour’s brisk drive brought the travelers to the 
hamlet of Folliott Fens, which consisted of a single 
street known as King Street, upon which were situated 
the village church ; the inn known as the Folliott Arms, 
the smithy, two or three shops, in one of which was the 
post-office, and a dozen houses, one of which was occu- 
pied by the rector, and another by a very excellent 
physician and surgeon. 

The carriage passed swiftly through King Street, the 
shop-keepers rushing to their doors to witness the 
return of “ my lady,” and then were seen the houses set 


At Folliott Court. 


1 15 


in the midst of large gardens. Beyond the village the 
road was bordered on one side by the trees of Folliott 
Park, and upon the other by pastures and fields. 

“ The village of Folliott Fens, for the most part, 
belongs to my estate," said Lady Folliott, quietly. 
“ This is my park, Nerea. It will be yours and Lionel’s 
some day, I hope. We shall turn in here and finish 
our drive through our own grounds." 

The carriage drew up before a tall bronze gate, 
formed of spears, the heads of which were tipped with 
shining brass, which opened directly into the park. 
One of the footmen alighted and opened this gate, and 
they entered the wide avenue, shaded by grand old 
oaks. Presently they turned into another avenue, and 
the impostor who was staring about her with eager 
eyes, beheld, in one bosky nook, a little temple of the 
Grecian order of architecture, in another, a marble 
statue of a dryad or wood-nymph, in others, rustic seats, 
airy pavilions, a charming little chalet, and several 
fountains, one of which, like that at Cliatsworth, was in 
the form of a willow tree, from every twig and branch 
of which the water sprang out in jets and spray. 

The false Miss Bermyngham was in raptures over all 
this display of luxury and taste. As Lady Folliott had 
appointed the time of her return, the fountains were 
playing. There were shy-eyed deer in large numbers. 
Upon the pretty lake swans were sailing. 

“ It is like fairy-land !" said the impostor, drawing a 
long breath. “ I never, never saw any place half so 
charming ! Aunt Folliott, it is Paradise ! It must 
have cost — oh, mints and mints of money !" 

“ Certainly more than one fortune has been expended 
upon it," said the baroness. “ My own dowry was 
absorbed in beautifying and improving the estate, and 
it was for that reason that Lord Folliott bequeathed 


Beatrix Rohan. 


1 16 


Folliott Court to me absolutely. I conceive that my 
niece and his nephew have equal claims upon me, as I 
told you, my dear. I am glad, therefore, that you like 
the place. I hope that you will be mistress after I am 
gone/' and she looked fondly upon the blonde and 
pretty face of the usurper. 

“ Is Sir Lionel Charlton at Folliott Court now ?’’ 
inquired the false Miss Bermyngham. 

“ No, my dear. Folliott Court has always been his 
home more or less, but he has not been here for a 
month. His own place is in Herefordshire. He may be 
there at this time, or in town, or visiting some friend. 
He has promised to arrive here next week. I expected 
you to arrive at that time, my dear, and was anxious 
that he should be here to meet you. Now you see the 
towers of the Court, my dear. We are almost home 
now." 

They crossed the handsome marble arch that spanned 
the moat, and passed along the winding drive, through 
shrubbery and gardens and lawn, coming to an abrupt 
halt in the carriage porch. 

Lady Folliott alighted and gave her hand to the false 
Miss Bermyngham, who sprang out with a little child- 
like laugh. 

“ Home at last !" cried the impostor. “ After these 
weeks of travel by sea and land, I have reached home 
at last !" 

The house-door stood open wide, and Lady Folliott, 
with words of affection, led the girl within the mansion. 

The usurper’s usually downcast eyes shot forth a 
long, sweeping, sidelong glance, after their usual 
fashion. 

She beheld a stately old baronial hall, hung with 
armor, deer’s antlers, and trophies of the chase, the 
walls and floor of marble, the furniture of ancient man- 


At Folliott Court . 


117 


ufacture and exquisitely carved. The grand marble 
staircase opened from its especial hall, and a glimpse of 
it could be seen through the carved marble arches that 
partially screened it from view. 

“ We will go up stairs at once, my dear,” said Lady 
Folliott. “ Your room is ready, and your maid will be 
here directly. The servants followed us in a spring- 
cart with the luggage, you know. I will show you to 
your rooms, which are near my own.” 

The housekeeper was in waiting to receive her mis- 
tress, and Lady Folliott greeted her with kind courtesy, 
presented her to her guest, and then conducted the girl 
down the length of the stately hall, beyond the arches, 
and up the great staircase. 

This stair was broad enough for six persons to march 
abreast upon it. There were very frequent wide land- 
ings, and these spaces were ornamented with living 
dwarf palms in great majolica vases. There were fre- 
quent niches also filled with gleaming statuary. 

Clinging to Lady Folliott’s arm, the false Miss Ber- 
myngham ascended the stair to the upper hall, which 
was of similar size to that below. Magnificent Gothic 
windows twelve feet wide lighted this hall, one window 
being at each end, and each window being provided 
with a very extensive balcony outside. 

Doors opened from either side of this vast hall, which 
was hung with pictures and suitably furnished. 

“ My rooms are upon the right, Nerea,” said Lady 
Folliott, “ and look out upon the gardens and the park. 
Your rooms are exactly opposite mine, and afford views 
of the lawn and shrubberies and the rose garden.” 

She opened a door at her left, and ushered the 
impostor into a beautiful parlor, daintily furnished, the 
prevailing color being pale blue. The walls were hung 
with fluted silk. The carpet was of blue and silver- 


Beatrix Rohan . 


1 1 8 


gray. The couches, the roomy easy-chairs, the has- 
socks, were all of blue silk, embroidered with silver. 
The doors were of palest blue also, and the panels were 
of porcelain, ornamented with painted clusters of 
exquisite pink roses. 

“ It is a perfect bower !” cried the usurper, taking in 
all these details with a glance, and noticing also the 
frescoed ceiling, the chandelier with its forest of wax- 
lights, and the silvered grate, in which a fire was burn- 
ing. “ And you have remembered that I came from 
India and love warmth as a cat does !” she continued. 
“ I am a true fire-worshipper, dear Aunt Folliott.” 

“ Rooms that have been long unused require thorough 
warmth and ventilation before being occupied,” said 
the baroness. “ These rooms have been warmed every 
day for a week, Nerea. Not a suspicion of chill remains 
in the walls. Let me show you your dressing-room and 
bed-chamber.” 

The dressing-room immediately adjoined the parlor, 
and was in keeping with it. The bedroom was perfect 
in its way, having a dark polished floor dotted about 
with white rugs ; a low, white bed, with a canopy, from 
which fell a cloud of misty white drapery, and a couple 
of white easy-chairs. 

The bath-room was large, and had a high raised 
platform, in which was a sunken marble bath. No 
luxury that art could devise was wanting here. 

“ And here is a closet for your maid, should you 
desire her to sleep near you,” said Lady Folliott, open- 
ing the door of a small bedroom which was lighted by 
two windows. “ And now, my dear, I will leave you to 
rest and to make your toilette. We dine at seven 
o’clock. I will come for you myself !” 

She led the way back to the blue parlor, and kissing 


A t Folliott Court. 


119 


the fair, false face of the impostor, withdrew to her own 
apartments. 

The girl threw off her hat, gloves and shawl upon a 
sofa, and looked around her with exulting eyes. 

“ Ah ! that was a happy inspiration of mine,” she 
said to herself, “ to exchange places with that dead girl. 
She has lost nothing by the exchange but a splendid 
funeral, but I have gained great wealth, powerful 
friends, a luxurious home, absolute safety, the pros- 
pect of marrying this Sir Lionel Charlton, and of 
inheriting this great estate ! Was ever a lot more 
magnificent than this I have grasped ? I have been 
bold ; I must be cunning. I must play my new part 
well. I must never be off my guard. I wonder,” and 
a sinister smile played around her red lips — “ what my 
Lady Folliott would say if she knew that her niece is 
dead, and that I am an impostor with a terrible past, 
that I am a fugitive from justice, that this little hand ” 
— and she held up one white and jewelled member 
against the red glow of the fire, and surveyed it criti- 
cally — “ has done deeds of crime ! Ah ! if she knew 
who and what is the dainty creature she has taken to 
her heart and home as her beloved niece, I verily 
believe she would die of sheer horror ! I know that 
she would not sleep a wink with me under her roof !” 

The pretty, blonde face, with that slow, sinister smile 
upon it, was thoroughly evil now in its expression. It 
was as if the girl had put off her mask of innocent seem- 
ing, and stood revealed in her real character, wicked, 
base, and unscrupulous. Her eyes, over which the 
heavy lids were usually drooped, were open now. No 
wonder the girl was wont to keep those strange eyes 
hidden through pretended modesty and shyness. No 
more absolute contrast to her childish face could be 
imagined. They were bold and black, hard, keen, and 


120 


Beatrix Rohan. 


malicious. A mocking-devil looked from those sinister 
eyes — a daring and malignant yet cowardly soul lurked 
within that slender girl’s figure, and showed itself in her 
open glances. 

She flung herself upon a sofa near the fire, and con- 
tinued to gaze about her lazily, with appreciative glances. 

“ I never imagined luxury like this,” she mused. “ I 
shall live like a princess here. I shall make my lady 
fairly dote upon me. I shall make Sir Lionel Charlton 
actually worship me. I have found my sphere at last. 
As to dangers, I think, if any arise, I shall be able to 
cope with them. The real Miss Bermyngham is dead. 
Fisherwick, her counselor and business agent, is dead 
also. Her money is invested in English consols, and I 
know how to draw the income at my pleasure. Miss 
Bermyngham lived quite secluded in Calcutta after her 
father’s death, not bestowing or receiving visits. I have 
nothing to fear ; no exposure of my imposture is possi- 
ble. I have only to practise her handwriting assidu- 
ously, and all will be well. I have her diaries and let- 
ters. She was fond of talking, and told me all about 
herself and her friends. Yes, I can play my part thor- 
oughly.” 

A servant appeared at this point of her reflections 
bearing a salver, upon which was spread a light lunch, 
with a tiny silver pot of tea. 

The false Miss Bermyngham partook of this refresh- 
ment leisurely, and had sent away the tray, when her 
maid entered her presence. 

This attendant was a discreet-looking Frencewoman 
of middle age, with a sallow skin, a very low forehead, 
and bushy black hair. She was almost noiseless in her 
movements, and was dressed in black, so that she 
moved about like a shadow. She was accomplished in 
all the arts of her trade, and was likely to prove invalu- 


At Folliott Cotirt. 


I 2 I 


able to her new mistress. She had, however, a habit 
of starting at every unexpected sound that aroused 
the impostor's suspicion that her past also held its 
secrets. This point her mistress had decided to investi- 
gate at the earliest opportunity. 

“ Well, Finette,” said the false Miss Bermyngham, 
lazily, “ is my luggage arrived ?” 

“ Yes, my lady,” responded the maid, flattering her 
mistress with a title. “ At least, two of the new boxes 
— the ones you directed — came in the spring-cart with 
us. The remaining trunks will arrive in another con- 
veyance — a big wagon. The two that came with me 
were just taken into your dressing-room. I stopped 
below in the servants’ hall a few minutes, ma’am selle, 
to make the acquaintance of the maids.” 

“You are to sleep near me, Finette,” said her 
mistress. “ You will find your bed-closet on investi- 
gation. The first thing to be done is to lay out my 
dinner-dress. I am just out of mourning for my dear 
papa, and I will wear a lavender-colored silk with black 
trimmings — the Pingat , you know. And now leave me 
and don’t come near me till six o’clock. I want to sleep.” 

The maid retired. But the false Miss Bermyngham 
did not sleep. She lay broad awake, staring into the 
fire, and exulting in her successes, and planning a 
future when, as Lady Charlton, she might possess all 
this grandeur for her own. 

At six ^o’clock Finette returned, and her mistress 
arose, yawning, and entered her dressing-room. 

“ It is a grand place, this Folliott Court, my lady,” 
said the Frenchwoman, admiringly. “ I never saw such 
splendor before — never ! There are thirty servants, 
ma’amselle. It is a palace !” 

“ It will all be mine some day !” said the impostor, 
coolly. “ I shall crowd the Court with gay company 


122 


Beatrix Rohan. 


when I become mistress here ; I shall give balls to the 
county gentry, and set the fashions for this part of 
Lincolnshire. I shall never be contented with a quiet 
country life, as a Lady Bountiful to the poor, all that — 
never.” 

Finette dressed her mistress with a Frenchwoman’s 
taste, and long before the dinner-hour the false Miss 
Bermyngham was attired in a trained lavender silk 
robe, trimmed with innumerable ruffles, puffs, and plait- 
ings, with here and there a slender line of black which 
gave tone to it. The basque was heart-shaped at the 
neck, and a double Elizabethan frill of point lace, made 
stiff with invisible wires, rose high around the girl's 
white throat. Her red-gold hair was dressed high in 
braids and waves and curls, and in her ears swung 
great yellow topazes which glowed like mimic suns. 

She was waiting in her parlor when Lady Folliott, in 
a dinner dress of black velvet came for her. The bell 
had rung, and the two ladies descended together to the 
dining-hall, a spacious apartment, which was perfect in 
all its appointments. 

They lingered an hour over their dinner, and Lady 
Folliott then conducted her guest to the drawing-room. 

“ I found a letter in waiting for me from Sir Lionel 
Charlton,” said the baroness, as they passed along the 
hall. “He will be with us in a day or two. He is pre- 
pared to like you, Nerea. It depends upon you to 
make him love you. But indeed I don’t see how he can 
help falling in love with you at first sight,” she added, 
affectionately. “ You are one of those loving, clinging 
little creatures that men adore. Come this way, dar- 
ling. You shall read his letter for yourself, and tell me 
if you think you can love him.” 

They passed into the drawing-room together, arm in 
arm. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

RESCUED. 

The bold defiance of Beatrix Rohan, as she stood at 
bay, utterly amazed and appalled both Mr. Hillsley and 
Colonel Brand. 

The former was horrified and shocked. He believed 
the girl to be mad. His sole anxiety now was to get 
her out of his house without arousing the neighbor- 
hood. 

Colonel Brand was infuriated. Had it not been for the 
presence of Mr. Hillsley he could have siezed the 
spirited girl and throttled her. He felt for her in that 
moment a hatred that terrified him. He could not 
trust his voice to speak. 

“ Miss Rohan,” said Mr. Hillsley, in a voice that 
actually trembled, but which was intended to be depre- 
cating and soothing — a voice in which he would have 
addressed a mad- woman — “ for heaven’s sake, be calm, 
be reasonable ! Don’t excite yourself so terribly. No 
one will harm you. By heaven, Colonel, what are we 
to do ?” 

He looked helplessly at Colonel Brand. 

That gentleman was equally perplexed. 

It was plain that, if they ventured to approach 
Beatrix, she would execute her threat and shriek for 
help, crying out that appalling word — Murder . And 

r.123] 



124 


Beatrix Rohan . 


Colonel Brand was equally with his friend averse to 
attracting a crowd in the street or summoning a police- 
man. The colonel wiped the cold perspiration from 
his narrow retreating forehead, and arched his long, 
thin nose and chin convulsively like a nut-cracker in 
active operation. 

Beatrix looked from one to the other of the two men 
with great burning eyes. Her fair face was pale and 
anxious, but not despairing. 

“ Mr. Hillsley,” she said, addressing the trustee in a 
voice which she endeavored to render calm, “ you were 
my father’s honored and trusted friend. As such, I 
again appeal to you. My personal guardians have 
proven themselves false to the trust reposed in them. 
They are cruel and treacherous and unscrupulous. 
They have starved and imprisoned me. They are 
determined to force me into a marriage with their son. 
Again I beseech you to befriend and protect me — to 
assist me in my application to the courts for a new 
guardian.” 

Again Mr. Hillsley fixed his gaze upon Colonel Brand. 

That gentleman had gained sufficient self-possession 
to enable him to speak calmly, yet with a great affecta- 
tion of grief and anxiety. 

“ My dear child,” he said, “ why will you cherish this 
singular hallucination ? Why will you wrong us so 
cruelly ? My poor wife was the beloved sister of your 
father. He knew her thoroughly, and he entrusted to 
her his most precious possession, his daughter, knowing 
that that daughter would receive from her a mother’s 
care and tenderness. Mr. Hillsley knows us well, and 
is not to be imposed upon by your wild accusations. 
My dear child, you break my heart,” and Colonel Brand 
put his handkerchief to his eyes. “ You are as dear to 
me and Selina as is our own son. Conquer this singular 


Rescued, 


125 


mania of yours, my dear child, and let me take you back 
to my weeping Selina, your second mother, who will 
receive you with open arms !” 

Beatrix replied to this by a look of scorn and con- 
tempt. Mr. Hillsley, intercepting that glance, could 
scarcely repress a groan. His rosy, Sybaritic face was 
pitiable in its expression of misery. Loving his ease as 
he did, hating all annoyance, trouble, and excitement, 
this scene was, to him, a martyrdom. 

Pleased with the sounds of his own words, and with 
the impression they had made upon the trustee, Colonel 
Brand warmed to his work and continued : 

“ Yes, Beatrix, all shall be forgiven and forgotten, if 
you will go quietly with me to your poor, weeping 
Aunt Selina. We will cherish you most tenderly. If 
you have conceived an aversion to your cousin, he shall 
be sent away. Come, then, dear child, come home with 

^ 'M 

me — 

He moved towards her with outstretched arms. 

“ Back !” cried Beatrix, sharply. “ One step nearer 
Colonel Brand, and I’ll scream for help !” 

Colonel Brand paused upon the instant. 

“ Mr. Hillsley,” said Beatrix, “ you have not yet 
answered my last appeal. Have you no pity for the 
daughter'of your old friend. Do you refuse to aid me 
in my terrible extremity ?” 

The trustee looked his embarrassment. 

“ My dear Miss Rohan,” he said, “ you are the ward 
of your aunt and uncle. I have known them many 
years, and cannot believe this evil you allege against 
them. I cannot assist you to bring scandal upon their 
honorable name nor to make of yourself a spectacle for 
the gaping crowds that throng the courts. Colonel and 
Mrs. Brand stand to you in the place of your deceased 
parents. You belong to them until you attain your 


126 


Beatrix Rohan. 


majority, and I cannot interfere between them and you 
any more than I could interfere between parents and 
child.” 

The girl’s dusk -gray eyes dilated and shone like stars. 

“ Then you refuse to help me ?” she demanded. 

“ I do utterly refuse to interfere in this matter.” 

The girl’s eyes wandered to the thin dark face of Col- 
onel Brand. It was now aglow with wicked exultation. 
His little black ferret-eyes looked like burning coals. 
Beatrix shivered with a sudden chill. 

“ Knowing all that I have told you,” she said, “you 
persist in sending me back to persecution — to a certain 
death ? For, so sure as I go back to that Belgian cha- 
teau with Colonel Brand, I shall be allowed to emerge 
from it only as his son’s wife or in my coffin. Do you 
understand, Mr. Hillsley ? These people mean to seize 
upon my fortune before I attain my majority, even if 
they have to murder me to obtain it.” 

Mr. Hillsley gave a little gasp of horror. 

“ Miss Rohan,” he said, “ you terrify me. Such hallu- 
cinations are frightful. I decline again and finally to 
interfere between you and your guardians. I believe 
them to be good and just. Colonel,” and he turned 
abruptly to the hypocrite beside him, “ I think, for your 
own safety and that of your wife, you should put this 
poor young lady under medical restraint.” 

“ We could not do that,” ejaculated the colonel. “ We 
could not bear to give up the care of our poor girl to 
strangers.” 

“ I must beg you to remove her from my house imme- 
diately, Colonel,” said the trustee. “ I cannot bear a 
prolongation of this scene. You should be off, if you 
mean to catch the train,” and he glanced at the clock. 
“You have barely time to do so.” 

“You hear, Beatrix?” said Colonel Brand. “Mr. 


Rescued, 


127 


Hillsley’s trust in me is unimpaired. He declines to pay 
attention to your insane appeals. He sees that your 
mind is unbalanced. I will not reproach you, nor again 
endeavor to argue with you. But, scream as you will, 
I am going to take you back with me to the Chateau 
Valbeck, and we are going to start now!” 

He moved toward her, his face terrible in its threaten- 
ings and the fixedness of his purpose. 

Beatrix drew open the door and darted out like a 
flash. 

Colonel Brand flew after her. 

The hall-door was closed, but the key was in the 
lock. There was a moment’s delay, but the door was 
pulled open at last, and Beatrix, in a panic, sped down 
the steps. Colonel Brand, who had caught up his hat 
in passing, was at her heels ! 

There was no time to spring into the waiting cab — 
there was no resource save to continue her mad flight 
— anywhere — anywhere — so that she might escape from 
her remorseless enemy. 

The cabman who had brought her to Upper Berkeley 
Street, witnessing her flight, alighted and rung the bell 
of Mr. Hillsley’s house, but the hall-porter could not 
answer his excited questionings, Mr. Hillsley declined 
to see him; and he mounted his box and drove away 
with the intention of calling at number four Wellesley 
Terrace, Bayswater, for the amount of his fare. It thus 
happened that no clue to the girl’s refuge in London 
was placed in the hands of her enemies. 

Beatrix sped on like a mad creature, turning corner 
after corner with wild precipitancy. Desperation lent 
her strength. Capture was death, or worse than death. 
Colonel Brand kept close to her, only a few feet of dis- 
tance intervening between them. She was weak from 
a long course of starvation and great recent fatigues, 


128 


Beatrix Rohan . 


and but for her terrors, must have fallen after a flight 
of but a few rods. Colonel Brand was thin, sinewy and 
strong. He gained upon her with his long strides, 
nevertheless, the girl would not surrender. 

The night was light and the street lamps burned 
brightly. The fugitive passed several pedestrians, one 
or two of whom made an attempt to stop her, but she 
eluded them and hurried onward, wild-eyed and pant- 
ing, with a gathering despair and frenzy. 

“ Stop !” cried Colonel Brand, in a hissing voice, close 
at her back. “ I have you now ! By heaven ! you 
shall pay for this ! Once I get you back to the chat- 
eau ” 

His claw-like hand grazed her shoulder. 

With a shrill, wild scream, Beatrix sprang forward 
with renewed strength, and darted around a corner into 
Oxford Street. 

Colonel Brand bounded after her with a curse. 

Beatrix saw only a glare of lights, with flitting shad- 
ows, in the great thoroughfare. She could distinguish 
neither sight nor sound. It seemed as if she were in a 
horrible nightmare. 

And then again came that claw-like clutch upon her 
shoulder. 

And again Colonel Brand’s voice hissed in her ears : 

“ Curse you— curse you ! You shall pay for this ! 
Now — now I have you !” 

And the fierce talons grasped her in a vice-like clutch. 

“ Help ! Help !” shrieked the girl in agony. “ For 
the love of God, help !” 

That wild appeal was not uttered in vain. 

A young gentleman, who had witnessed the pursuit 
from the instant Beatrix had turned into Oxford Street, 
and who had halted when Colonel Brand had seized 
her, now sprang forward, crying out : 


Rescued. 


129 


“ Let go the lady, you scoundrel !” 

Colonel Brand snarled like a tiger. 

“ Stand back !” he said. “ She belongs to me !” 

“ Oh, help, help !” cried Beatrix, in a faint and dying 
voice. “ In the name of God, help !” 

The young gentleman believed the girl to have been 
pursued by some villainous scoundrel who had encoun- 
tered her in the street and had chosen to insult her. 
Acting upon this hasty supposition, with all the impetu- 
osity of a fiery and chivalrous spirit, he doubled his fist 
and very promptly assaulted Colonel Brand and knocked 
him down. 

Beatrix stood, deathly white, panting for breath, 
utterly strengthless. 

Colonel Brand sprang to his feet and hurled himself 
upon his assailant, at the same time calling for the 
police. 

But the police did not respond to his outcry. His 
opponent received his attack very coolly, parried his 
blows, and planted his fist again in the colonel’s face, 
hitting him squarely upon the forehead. 

Colonel Brand fell to the ground as if shot. 

The young gentleman having ascertained that his 
antagonist was stunned and senseless, turned his atten- 
tion to Beatrix. 

She was leaning against a door-frame in an almost 
fainting condition. 

By this time a crowd had collected. The shops were 
for the most part closed, but the colored lights of a 
chemist’s shop flared from a window in the next block. 
The young gentleman, leaving Colonel Brand to the 
mercies and ministrations of the crowd, drew the arm 
of Beatrix within his and hurried her down the street. 

Before they had taken ten steps she had lost her con- 


13 ° 


Beatrix RoJian . 


sciousness, and would have fallen but for his prompt 
support. 

He gathered up her slight and wasted figure in his 
arms and crossed the street, hurrying to the chemist’s 
shop, into which he carried her. 

He explained that he had rescued the young lady from 
one who had insulted her, and Beatrix was borne into a 
little parlor behind the shop, where, through the influ- 
ence of restoratives, she presently regained her con- 
sciousness. 

Her first utterance was a low cry of affright, as she 
started up and stared around her. 

But these were friendly faces that bent over her — the 
little chemist, who wore spectacles, and who possessed 
an honest, kindly face ; the chemist’s wife, a timid, 
frightened little woman ; and the gentleman who had 
rescued her from her enemy. 

The gaze of Beatrix lingered longest and most grate- 
fully upon her preserver. 

He was young, about twenty-three years of age, tall, 
active, and slenderly-built, with a face of extraordinary 
beauty. 

His complexion was olive-tinted ; his eyes were black 
and were at once frank, honest, deep, and kindly ; his 
forehead was broad, high, and massive, and his head 
was covered with short, black, silky curls that lay in 
close rings. His face was smooth-shaven save for his 
luxuriant black mustache. His mouth was firm and 
well-shaped, capable of expressing a womanly sweetness 
and gentleness, or a man’s sternest and haughtiest anger. 

His face, whether studied as a whole, or feature by 
feature, was grand and noble and beautiful. It was a 
face indicative of a grand and chivalrous soul, of an 
ardent temperament, and of a well-principled mind. 

Beatrix felt an instinctive trust in his goodness, but 


A Promise of Better Days . 


131 


this trust did not prevent her from sending- a quick 
glance of alarm and inquiry around her. 

“ Fear nothing,” said the young gentleman, gravely 
and respectfully. “You are quite safe here, madam. 
That scoundrel will not dare follow you here !” 

“ That he will not,” said the chemist. “ It would not 
be safe for him.” 

But Beatrix would not be reassured. She knew that 
Colonel Brand, being her guardian, had 'a legal right to 
take charge of her, and she struggled to her feet, wild 
and anxious. 

“ Oh, let mego : let me go !” she exclaimed. “ He will 
come for me here ! And I am so weak. Will you not 
call a cab for me ? What is that noise ?” and she raised 
her head like a startled deer. 

The young gentleman came nearer to her, grave and 
gentle, and said, reassuringly : 

“ I beg you to compose yourself, madam. You are 
quite safe here. I will defend you with my life, if nec- 
essary. I guarantee your safety, upon the honor of a 
gentleman. Permit me to introduce myself to you. I 
am Sir Lionel Charlton !” 


CHAPTER XV. 

A PROMISE OF BETTER DAYS. 

The announcement of his name upon the part of her 
brave young rescuer was not followed by a declaration of 
that Of our heroine. His face invited her confidence. His 
frank avowal of his identity showed him honorable. 
What Beatrix would have said in reply to him cannot 
be known, for some sudden sound amidst the roar of 


i3 2 


Beatrix Rohan. 


passing vehicles in the street caught her attention. 
Again her head was lifted, like that of a startled deer, 
and into her dusk-gray eyes, their gaze fixed upon Sir 
Lionel Charlton, came a look of wild appeal. 

“ I — I think he’s coming,” she faltered. “ He will 
find me here. I must go.” 

She took a tottering step toward the door and halted, 
catching hold of a chair for support. 

“ I beg you not to give way to your fears, madam,” 
said Sir Lionel Charlton, a grave and reassuring 
expression upon his olive face. “ The man who 
insulted you cannot yet have recovered his senses. He 
will not be himself again in half-an-hour.” 

Beatrix sat down in an easy-chair. 

A ring at the shop-bell called away the chemist. 
Beatrix listened, white and breathless. No sounds of 
commotion came from the shop, and the girl presently 
became convinced that her enemy had not yet resumed 
his pursuit. 

“ I feel quite well now,” she said, with a piteous 
attempt at a smile. “ I am very grateful to you, sir, 
but I dare not stay here longer. I cannot conquer my 
nervous fears. I must go.” 

She arose again, with a firmer carriage, and grate- 
fully thanked the chemist’s wife for her kindness. Sir 
Lionel made no further effort to detain the girl, noting 
her anxieties, but opened the door into the shop. 
Beatrix passed in and he followed her. 

The chemist was alone and on the point of returning 
to his patient. Beatrix paused a moment to thank him 
also for his ministrations and to take out her purse. 
The young baronet forestalled her, however, by laying 
a gold piece upon the counter, and he then conducted 
the girl into the street. 

They halted outside for a moment in the shadow. 


A Promise of Better Days . 


133 


The little crowd that had gathered so recently around 
the prostrate form of Colonel Brand had disappeared. 
The enemy of Beatrix was nowhere to be seen. Cabs 
and carriages were moving up and down the street as 
usual, and pedestrians passed too and fro upon the 
sidewalks. In the general hurry, and amid the numbers 
of persons passing, Beatrix and her preserver were not 
likely to attract special attention, except from an enemy 
close at hand. Beatrix sent a quick look around her, 
half expecting to see Colonel Brand spring out from the 
nearest shadows. 

With a shudder, the girl put out one hand and clung 
to her rescuer as to a rock of safety. 

“ Will you stop an empty cab for me ?” she asked, in 
a trembling voice. 

Sir Lionel caught sight of an empty four-wheeler cab 
at that moment, and signalled the driver, but the latter 
shook his head and drove on. 

‘‘We shall not soon be able to find an unengaged cab, 
I fear,” said the young gentleman. “We may be com- 
pelled to wait here ten minutes or more. Let me take 
you back into the chemist’s parlor, madam, while I look 
for a cab ” 

“ Oh, no, no !” cried Beatrix, with another swift 
glance around her. “ I will walk on alone. I shall 
meet a cab perhaps. Let me pay you the money you 
gave the chemist for me, and thank you for your good- 
ness ” 

She made a movement to withdraw her hand from Sir 
Lionel’s arm, but he placed his hand in a firm gentle 
clasp upon hers and held it fast. 

Beatrix looked up at him in a quick alarm and met 
his gaze. The lights of the chemist’s shop fell full upon 
his face as he now stood. His black eyes were full of 
kindness and pity. The expression of his grandly noble 


134 


Beatrix Rohan . 


face was one of grave gentleness ; his mouth wore a 
smile of infinite pity and sweetness, which had yet in it 
nothing effeminate. So might he have looked upon his 
own sister. Beatrix was reassured. 

“ You are not well enough to take care of yourself 
madam,” said Sir Lionel, respectfully. “ I shall see you 
safe home. If you have reason to fear that your recent 
assailant will seek to find you again, you need a pro- 
tector. And since you will not return to the chemist’s 
parlor,” he added, “ and since we ought not to remain 
here in waiting for a cab that may not be found in half- 
an-hour, let me conduct you to a cab-stand, which is 
only a couple of blocks distant. Do you think you can 
walk so far ?” 

Beatrix replied in the affirmative, and, keeping a fast 
hold upon the little clinging hand upon his arm, Sir 
Lionel led the girl down the street. 

Beatrix was surprised at her own confidence in this 
handsome stranger. How strange it all was ! Half-an- 
hour ago, she had been flying along this same street, 
pursued by her enemy, utterly friendless and desolate. 
Now she was clinging to the arm of the man who had 
rescued her, and it seemed to her that she had known 
Sir Lionel all her life. His air of gentle authority 
impressed her with a keen respect for him. His 
glances stirred her heart strangely. She felt a delicious 
sense of security in his protection that was very blissful 
after her recent terrors. 

They reached the cab-stand in safety, the girl’s 
strength increasing with exercise. Sir Lionel assisted 
his charge into the vehicle, and said to her in a low tone : 

“ Before giving your address to the cabman, madam, 
permit me to ask you a question. Does your assailant 
of to-night know where you live ?” 

“ No, no !” said Beatrix. “ Heaven forbid !” 


A Promise of Better Days. 


135 


“ Is it possible that he would seek to learn your 
address ?” continued the young baronet, gravely. 

Beatrix uttered an agitated affirmative. 

“ Then it would be well to proceed from here in any 
direction save your home. We must throw that person 
off the scent, if he should make inquiries at this cab- 
stand, which he would be likely to do. Will you tell me 
where you live ?” 

Beatrix gave her address in an almost inaudible tone. 

The cabman was upon his box awaiting orders. Sir 
Lionel said to him, in a loud, clear voice : 

“ Regent Circus !” and then entered the cab and took 
his place opposite Beatrix. 

The vehicle rolled rapidly down the street. 

Sir Lionel was silent, and Beatrix wondered what 
could be his opinion of her. She felt that some explan- 
ation was due him after all his services to her, and she 
said in a faltering voice : 

“ Sir Lionel, I am oppressed with my sense of indebt- 
edness to you. I cannot thank you enough for your 
kindness. I am a stranger in London — ” 

“ I thought so,’' said the baronet, quietly, as she 
paused. 

“ I am an orphan," continued Beatrix, “ and utterly 
friendless. I have lodgings in Bayswater, but I have 
no home upon this wide earth !” 

The pathos of her voice went to Sir Lionel’s chival- 
rous heart. 

He had seen at a glance that she was a lady by birth 
and breeding. There was an air of culture about her 
that would have been apparent to the most ignorant. 
That patrician manner, that slightly haughty carriage 
of the proud young head, belonged to one who had held 
a commanding, rather than dependent, position. Those 
pure dusk-gray eyes, the pure Greek face, the childlike 


136 


Beatrix Rohan. 


mouth, the atmosphere of perfect refinement that hov- 
ered around her, all declared that she was more than 
worthy of his protection and his homage. And the 
reserve in her manner toward even her preserver but 
enhanced his high opinion of her. 

“ Have you no relatives, madam ?” asked Sir Lionel. 
“ It is strange for one to stand utterly alone.” 

Beatrix hesitated, and then said : 

“ I cannot tell you all my story, Sir Lionel, not even 
my true name. I am called Miss Trist here in London. 
The man from whom you rescued me is my relative by 
marriage and my remorseless enemy. I inherited a 
fortune from my father, which will revert to this 
person’s wife at my death, if I should die before attain- 
ing my majority. And that is the secret of his perse- 
cutions.” 

Sir Lionel regarded the girl keenly in the swift flash 
of a street lamp. Her story was strange, but there was 
no madness in that proud, yet sorrowful young face, no 
wildness apparent in those sombre eyes. He was con- 
strained to believe her explanation, improbable as it 
seemed. 

“ Has this person who assaulted you any claims upon 
you, Miss Trist ?” he asked. “ Has he any authority 
over you, I mean ?” 

“ He is my guardian,” was the answer. 

“Are you not aware, Miss Trist,” asked Sir Lionel, 
“ that an unfaithful guardian can be deposed from his 
office by application to the proper courts ?” 

“ He is my uncle,” said Beatrix ; “ that is, he married 
my aunt, my father's sister. He has an honorable 
reputation, and is supposed to be" wealthy. If I com- 
plained against him I should be treated as a madwoman ! 
I called this evening upon one of the trustees of my 
property. This man was with him and I saw them 


A Promise of Better Days. 


137 


both. I told my story before my guardian to this trus- 
tee, and he coolly advised my uncle to place me under 
medical restraint ! If I were to make application to 
the courts, I should be remanded to my guardian’s care, 
and my fate would then be sealed ?” 

“ What do you mean by that ?” 

“ I mean,” said Beatrix, desperately, “that my uncle 
and aunt are really poor while they seem to be rich, that 
they have endeavored to force me into a marriage with 
their son, and that if I do not marry my cousin they 
mean to effect my death !” 

Before Sir Lionel could reply to this startling decla- 
ration the cab had stopped in Regent Circus. 

The passengers alighted, dismissed the vehicle, and 
moved slowly down Regent Street towards Pall Mall. 
They had gone but a few yards when the young baronet 
espied an empty cab approaching them from the oppo- 
site direction. He signalled it and it drew up at the 
curbstone. 

“ Euston Square railway station,” said the young 
baronet, assisting Beatrix into the vehicle. 

They proceeded rapidly upon their new course. 

“ I suppose,” said Beatrix, after a brief silence, “ that, 
like my trustee, you deem me mad, Sir Lionel.” 

“ By no means,” returned the young baronet. “ Your 
story is strange, Miss Trist, but it is impossible to doubt 
your declarations. The world is full of wickedness. 
The newspapers relate stranger stories than yours every 
day.” s 

“ I do not know why I have been so frank, Sir Lionel, 
but it seems to me that I have known you for years,” 
said the girl, shyly. “ I can do nothing in a contest 
with my guardian, you see. If I attempt to free myself 
from his authority he will place me ‘under medical 
restraint.’ Even my trustee will favor my guardian’s 


Beatrix Rohan. 


138 


claims. But one thing remains for me to do. I shall 
hide myself until the year of my minority is passed, 
and then I shall have nothing to fear, and shall claim 
my rights.” 

“Your decision may be wise, Miss Trist,” said Sir 
Lionel, thoughtfully. “ I regret that I am not more 
competent to advise you — providing you would take the 
advice of one of whom you know so little. But a year 
in lodgings among strangers will be very unpleasant 
for you. It will be like a year in prison. You will see 
no society ; you will have no amusements ; every strange 
face will seem to you the face of a spy and an enemy. 
Your life will be one constant anxiety.” 

“ I know it,” said Beatrix, desolately. “ But what 
can I do ? Where can I go ? I have been in school all 
my life. My enemies will look first of all for me at 
those schools. They will expect me to go there. I 
might seek out certain of my school-fellows, but what 
will they think of me if I come to them for protection ? 
They may refuse to shelter me. They may send for 
my guardian and give me up to him. No, Sir Lionel, I 
must bear my year of concealment as best I may. It 
will be only a year.” 

The girl leaned back in the shadow wearily. Her 
future looked dark and dreary to her. She wondered 
at herself for having spoken so freely to the yonng bar- 
onet, but her nerves had been so unstrung by her even- 
ing’s adventure, and he had been so kind and sympa- 
thizing, that she had told him her story as to a brother. 

“ It seems to me, Miss Trist,” said the young gentle- 
man, after a brief silence, “ that you need a friend, some 
one who can advise you better than I can do — a friend 
of your own sex. If you will permit me to tell to another 
what you have told me, I can promise you the friend- 
ship and protection of a noble and generous lady, my 


A Promise of Better Days . 


139 


aunt, Lady Folliott, of Folliott Court, in Lincolnshire. 
I am going to visit her to-morrow. Have I your per- 
mission to enlist her sympathy and aid in your cause?” 

The girl’s heart gave a quick throb. 

It seemed as if Sir Lionel Charlton were giving her a 
glimpse into Paradise. The friendship and protection 
of a lady of influence and high social position, a safe 
shelter in a remote country home, these would insure 
her absolute safety. Her enemies might search for her, 
but they would search in vain. They would never look 
for her at Folliott Court, in Lincolnshire. 

“ Sir Lionel, I think God has sent you to aid me,” 
cried Beatrix. “ If you can procure for me the protec- 
tion of Lady Folliott, you will save my life.” 

“ I will undertake to procure it. Lady Folliott will 
send her own maid to escort you to Folliott Court. I can 
safely promise this.” 

“ But her ladyship will desire to know more about 
me,” said Beatrix. “ She will not take under her pro- 
tection a young lady whose name she does not know. 
I must give you my entire confidence, Sir Lionel. The 
name of the man who assaulted me to-night, and from 
whom you rescued me — my guardian — -is Colonel Brand. 
He was formerly an officer of the army. And my name,” 
she added, tremulously, “is Beatrix Rohan.” 

“ The name of Rohan is familiar to me,” said the bar- 
onet. “ Has your father been long deceased ?” 

“ He died in my early childhood, and my mother did 
not long survive him. He was the Honorable George 
Rohan. My mother was a Miss Mary Harcourt, of 
Herefordshire — an orphan heiress whose parents died 
in India.” 

“Now I am able to recall where I have heard the 
name of Rohan,” said Sir Lionel. “ My mother’s most 
intimate friend in her girlhood was Miss Harcourt, who 


140 


Beatrix Rohan. 


married a Mr. Rohan. I have heard my mother speak 
of her dear friend and school-fellow, and regret Mrs. 
Rohan’s early death. It is singular that the children of 
those intimate friends should meet in this manner, is it 
not ? I am from Herefordshire, Miss Rohan. In con- 
sideration of the friendship of our mothers, I shall claim 
to be considered your friend.” 

“I shall hasten to acknowledge your claim, Sir 
Lionel,” said Beatrix, trying to speak lightly. “ Heaven 
knows that I need a friend.” 

They had now reached the Euston Square station, 
and the cab stopped. The young pair alighted. When 
they had dismissed this cabman also, and had seen him 
depart, they entered another vehicle which was in wait- 
ing, and Sir Lionel gave the girl’s address. 

“ I think we shall have thrown Colonel Brand com- 
pletely off the scent,” said Sir Lionel, as they were 
borne onward. “ His first thought upon recovery will 
be to visit the cab-stand nearest the scene of our adven- 
ture this evening. He will trace you to Regent Circus, 
but there his quest will end. The cab we hired at that 
point might have belonged in the city, or at Notting 
Hill, or at the East End. Yet I deemed it prudent to 
make another change, as we have done.” 

Beatrix had recovered her courage and hopefulness 
long before they reached Wellesley Terrace, Bays water. 
After all, all was not lost. She felt that Providence had 
sent to her aid the son of her mother’s early friend, and 
she would be protected from her enemies. 

When the cab came to a halt before Mrs. Punnet’s 
house, Sir Lionel sprang out and assisted her to alight, 
and then said : 

“ I shall probably not leave for Lincolnshire until the 
day after to-morrow, Miss Rohan, Will you permit me 


A pprehensions. 


141 


to call upon you in the morning, to learn if you are 
quite recovered from this evening’s excitement ?” 

Beatrix granted the desired permission. 

Sir Lionel accompanied her to the door of the house, 
and waited until she had entered. Then he returned 
to the cab, ordering the driver to convey him to “ Gos- 
ford’s Private Hotel, Piccadilly.” 

“ I have met my fate,” he said to himself, as he leaned 
back in the seat Beatrix had occupied. “ I have kept 
my heart whole all these years to fall in love, at last, at 
first sight ! How beautiful and spirited she is ! How 
lovely and gentle ! It is strange that I should have thus 
encountered the daughter of my mother’s dearest friend ! 
I know that Lady Folliott will offer her a home and love 
and protection. From this moment I am Miss Rohan’s 
suitor. If she will accept me after knowing me better, 
I will try to make her future life so full of happiness 
that she will forget her past sorrows. And if she refuses 
to marry me, I will live and die unmarried !” 


CHAPTER XVI. 

APPREHENSIONS. 

Her first evening at Folliott Court passed very agree- 
ably to the false Miss Bermyngham. First of all, upon 
entering the drawing-room, she read the letter from Sir 
Lionel Charlton, which Lady Folliott had found waiting 
for her. It was brief, but couched in the most affec- 
tionate terms and contained but scanty reference to the 
India heiress, merely expressing a hope that she would 
arrive as expected and would prove a pleasant compan- 
ion for the baroness. 


142 


Beatrix Rohan . 


“ Sir Lionel does not intend to commit himself before 
seeing me,” said the impostor, coolly. “ Does he know, 
dear Aunt Folliott, of your plans for his happiness and 
mine ?” 

“Yes, Nerea,” acknowledged her ladyship. “I told 
him, upon the occasion of his last visit to me, upon what 
terms he might secure the ownership of Folliott Court.” 

“ And what did he say ?” asked the usurper, eagerly. 

Lady Folliott’s noble face flushed slightly. 

“ He said,” she answered, “ that he would never marry 
for money ! But he acknowledged that he had never 
loved any woman, and that if he found my niece all that 
I expected, and if he should conceive a liking for her 
and felt that she would be happy with him, he would 
offer himself as her suitor. Certainly, all that is rea- 
sonable. And as you are all I expected, my dear child, 
I know he will fall in love with you, as you will fall in 
love with him !” 

“ Is he a goody-goody sort of a young man, Aunt 
Folliott ?” asked the girl, flinging herself upon a has- 
sock at the feet of the baroness. 

“ By no means,” said Lady Folliott, smiling. “ He 
was formerly quite wild, as I told you. He was not 
fond of wine ; he never cared for the usual follies of 
young men. He is pure in mind and in heart. But his 
wildness consisted in keeping race-horses, which he 
entered at Newmarket and elsewhere, and betting 
excessively. He lost money invariably. His horses 
always came in last at the races. His bets were always 
wrong. A year of that sufficed. His wild oats were 
soon sown. He cut loose from his betting associates, 
and went back to Herefordshire with the hope of 
retrieving his fortunes. But his predecessors had been 
wild too in their day, and that was a heavy encum- 
brance upon his patrimony, which he had greatly 


A pprehensions . 


H.3 


inceased. Under the circumstances, he did the best 
thing he could do. His farms were let to good tenants. 
He leased his home-manor to a good farmer, reserving 
the house and park, which he let separately. He lives 
upon an income of four hundred pounds a year, but in 
ten years, at the rate he is now paying off his mortgages, 
Charlton Place will be free and unencumbered.” 

“ If he has any pride in, or love for his ancestral 
home, he will fall in love with me immediately,” said 
the girl, with an arch little laugh. 

“ Lionel is the soul of honor,” said Lady Folliott. 
“ He will make a good husband, Nerea, and he possesses 
a fiery, ardent temperament, vivid imagination, and a 
high sense of chivalry, so that once he becomes your 
lover he will remain your lover to the day of his death. 
His wife will be a happy woman !” 

“And I shall be his wife !” said the impostor, confi- 
dently. “ I know my power, Aunt Folliott, and I shall 
use it !” 

Through her half -shut eyes, the false Miss Bermyng- 
ham surveyed the apartment, experiencing a delightful 
sense of prospective ownership. 

The drawing-room was sixty feet in length, and pro- 
portionately broad and high. It was furnished in the 
most exquisite taste, the prevailing hue of the upholstery 
being pale golden. There was a bay window of large 
size at one end. At the other, glazed doors opened into 
a conservatory filled with flowers in bloom. At one side 
of the room was an immense window, fifteen feet in 
width, and this was flanked on either side at a little dis- 
tance by ordinary windows. The room, therefore, could 
be flooded with light at will, and the effect was to ren- 
der it extraordinarily gay and pleasant. 

“ It would take my entire fortune to build a mansion 
like this and furnish it like this,” thought the girl. “ And 


144 


Beatrix Rohan . 


then I should have no money left to adorn the grounds. 
I will own this place and have my fortune besides. I 
will honestly try to win Sir Lionel Charlton, and I don’t 
doubt but that I shall succeed in my efforts. But the 
refusal to enter into the alliance, if there be a refusal, 
shall come from him, and that will leave me prospective 
owner here, while it will leave him virtually poor. Oh 
I will be crafty. I’ll be a perfect fox.” 

And the impostor smiled strangely. 

Lady Folliott put Sir Lionel’s letter in her pocket. 

“ I am very fond of music, Nerea,” she said, changing 
the subject abruptly. “ The piano is open. Will you 
not delight me with a little exhibition of your accom- 
plishments ?” 

“ Oh, certainly,” said the usurper, rising. “ I used to 
play to papa by the hour together in the evenings at our 
dear old home in Calcutta.” 

The girl hastened to the grand piano and executed 
several brilliant operatic pieces in faultless style. Then 
she wheeled about upon her piano-stool, expecting praise 
for her performance. 

Lady Folliott had been lying back in her chair with 
half-closed eyes. She looked up however, as the music 
ceased, and said : 

“That was very fine, my dear. You have an artist’s 
touch. I knew you had great musical genius. Your 
poor papa was never tired of praising in his letters your 
acquirements in music. But I like best the simple 
Scotch ballads that touch the heart and linger in the 
memory. Give me Annie Laurie , dear, or Coinin' thro ' the 
Rye." 

“ I don’t sing,” said the false Miss Bermyngham, a 
slight confusion in her manner. “ I have no voice.” 

Lady Folliott looked astonished. 

“ No voice !” she repeated, opening her eyes very 


A pprehensions. 


145 


wide. “ No voice, Nerea ! Why, my dear, your papa 
wrote me that your rendering of Annie Laurie was 
exquisite. He said that your voice was your chief 
beauty.” 

If it had been possible for the false Miss Bermyngham 
to show an accession of color to her face through the 
skillful enameling covering her features, she would 
have shown it at that moment. She bit her red lips 
angrily, and a very unpleasant glitter appeared in her 
half-shut, sleepy-looking eyes. 

Yet she commanded herself promptly, and replied in 
a voice that was quite undisturbed. 

“ That was ages and ages ago, Aunt Folliott — eighteen 
months at least. I used to be a perfect nightingale, and 
all that sort of thing. But after papa died,” and the 
pretty blonde face grew mournful, “ I lost my voice. I 
have never sung a note since.” 

Lady Folliott was all sympathy now. 

“ Forgive me, my dear child, if I have wounded you,” 
she said, gently. “ Perhaps your voice will return some 
day. We must consult a physician in regard to it. We 
will make an effort at least to win back this lost charm.” 

“ I never want to sing again, Aunt Folliott, never !” 
cried the impostor. “ It would bring back too vividly 
those happy days when — when papa — ” 

She buried her face in her hands, and her form 
shook as with an irrepressible agitation. 

Lady Folliott was genuinely distressed. She 
approached the girl, and caressed her very tenderly, 
and begged her to be comforted. She whispered words 
of Christian hope and comfort. And as the false Miss 
Bermyngham grew calmer, the baroness entertained 
her with displays of rare engravings, of the cabinet of 
curiosities, of books and pictures, and the impostor per- 
mitted herself to be comforted, and was presently gay 


146 


Beatrix Rohan. 


and vivacious, and soft and purring, after her usual 
kitten-like fashion. 

“Tell me something about your life out there in 
India, my dear,” said Lady Folliott, delighted with the 
girl’s returning smiles. “ Tell me about our friends, 
the Devonports, the Craigies, and the Marstons.” 

The usurper replied by a very interesting account 
of life in India and answered all of Lady Folliott’s 
inquiries with surprising accuracy and promptness. 

Whoever she was, this gilded serpent in the nest of 
the dove, was well informed upon all the points upon 
which she was likely to be questioned. 

Having satisfied the baroness upon all the points 
that interested her, the girl sauntered about the room, 
and finally paused at the great east window and looked 
out upon the gardens, with their statuary gleaming in 
the pale moonlight, upon the marble arch spanning the 
moat, and into the deep shadows of the park beyond. 

She was exulting in the prospective ownership of this 
earthly paradise, when Lady Folliott’s voice broke the 
enchanted stillness. 

“ My dear,” said the baroness, “ I have in store a 
little surprise for you. A very dear old friend of yours 
is coming to see you this evening, late as it is,” and she 
glanced at the clock. 

The impostor started. 

She looked as if an abyss had opened before her. 

“ An old friend !” she repeated, in a strange, hard 
voice. “ A — a person from India ?” 

“ No, my dear,” said Lady Folliott, smiling. “ This 
friend of yours was never in India. You knew and 
loved her before you ever went to India. Think again, 
Nerea. What dear old friend of yours has been living 
at Folliott Fens all these years since you went away ?” 

A cold dew started upon the girl’s forehead. In her 


A pprehensions. 


*47 


soul she uttered an anathema upon the baroness. She 
racked her brain for recollections of the real Miss Ber- 
myngham’s long confidences. Of whom had the true 
India heiress spoken oftenest on the long voyage home 
to England ? Of Lady Folliott — of Sir Lionel Charlton 
— of 

A sudden relief flooded the impostor’s being. A 
sudden glitter came from her downcast eyes. 

“ My nurse !” she exclaimed. “ My dear old Annot ! 
Is it my nurse, Aunt Folliott ?” 

“ Yes, my dear,” replied the baroness. “Old Annot 
has been living with her son at Folliott Fens during the 
past fifteen years. She has been at the Court very 
often to inquire about you, and I have given her all 
your affectionate little messages as you wrote them. 
She was here yesterday to inquire when you were 
expected, and again to-day, the housekeeper told me. 
She left a message for me to-day, begging permission to 
call and see you this evening, after you should be 
entirely rested ; and directly after dinner I sent her 
word that she might come. Poor, affectionate old soul ! 
she cannot wait until morning.” 

There was no joy in the impostor’s face. Instead, a 
look of apprehension gathered there. 

She had deceived Lady Folliott completely. The 
baroness had not the faintest suspicion that she was not 
the real Miss Bermyngham. Her familiarity with the 
family history, her pretty, affectionate ways, her ease in 
her new position, her intimate knowledge of family 
friends, would have completely deceived a person who 
might have had suspicions concerning her identity. 
How much more had they deceived the baroness, who 
had received her with open arms as her beloved niece 
without the shadow of a doubt that she was what she 
had seemed. 


148 


Beatrix Rohan . 


Even that one point upon which her apprehensions 
had all rested— the fact that her eyes were black, and 
those of Miss Bermyngham had been blue — had been 
gotten over without exciting Lady Folliott’s suspicions. 

But then, it must be acknowledged that the baroness 
had seen very little of her niece in the latter’s child- 
hood. The real Miss Bermyngham had made one or 
two visits to Folliott Court, notably one fifteen years 
since ; but she was in charge of her parents and nurse 
at those times ; and Lady Folliott had usually seen her 
but once a day, when she had been allowed to leave the 
nursery for the dining-room, appearing at the dessert. 

It was not to be wondered at that the baroness should 
have forgotten the color of her eyes. 

But this old Annot who had been Miss Bermyngham’s 
nurse for eight years, who had loved and petted her, 
who had cradled her in her arms, who had taught her 
her prayers, who must have gazed times without num- 
bers into the pale, inane blue eyes of the heiress, how 
would it be possible to deceive her ? 

Would not the old woman detect the imposture at a 
glance ? 

“You are silent, Nerea,” said Lady Folliott. “I 
expected you would welcome old Annot with delight. 
Poor soul, she loves you better than she loves her own 
children, I feel assured.” 

“ I shall be glad to see her,” said the impostor, in a 
voice that was singularly dry and hard. “ I— I— the 
thought of seeing her fairly overcomes me. When I 
saw her last I had my parents, and now — ” 

She averted her head, apparently to conceal the 
emotions awakened by her memories, but in reality to 
hide the look of malignity and fear that distorted her 
pretty blonde face. 

“ Tender heart !” said Lady Folliott, affectionately. 


A pprehensions . 


149 


“You are poorly fitted by nature, my darling- Nerea, to 
battle with the world. It is well for you that you have 
wealth and a luxurious home, and powerful friends to 
make your life bright and sunny. You would be as 
helpless, if you were poor and alone, as a canary-bird 
would be if driven forth into the winter’s storm.” 

“ I know it,” sighed the girl. “ I am only a tender 
little creature made to be petted, just like a canary-bird, 
Aunt Folliott. And I shall be quite contented with a 
gilded cage forever and ever. But about old Annot. 
Will she soon be here ?” 

“ You are growing impatient, dear,” smiled the baron- 
ess. “ I dare say she is waiting in the servant’s hall 
with her son. I will ring and have her sent to us. But 
first I must tell you to be prepared for a great change 
in Annot. Fifteen years have transformed you from a 
little child into a charming girl ; but fifteen years have 
turned Annot into an old woman. She stoops, and her 
face is wrinkled, and she is grown half-blind — ” 

“ Oh /” breathed the impostor involuntarily. 

A load was lifted from her. A wild joy replaced her 
anxieties. “ Half-blind !” Was ever such good for- 
tune ? Surely the Evil One whom she served was mak- 
ing her evil way straight for her ! 

Lady Folliott had paused at her interruption and was 
regarding her earnestly. 

“ What did you say, Nerea ?” she questioned. 

“ I said ‘ Oh !’ ” replied the girl, placing, however, a 
very different accent upon the exclamation. “ I was so 
shocked — so surprised — so grieved ! I had expected to 
find old Annot hale and vigorous still, although she 
must be seventy years old !” 

The baroness accepted this explanatien in good faith 
and rang the bell, ordering old Annot to be shown up to 
the drawing-room. 


Beatrix Rohan . 


150 


The girl awaited the coming of Miss Bermyngham’s 
former nurse with apparent eagerness, yet with consid- 
erable inward trepidation. A new idea had come to 
her. 

“ What if there should be such a faculty as instinct ?” 
she thought. “ What if this purblind old woman should 
detect, in some mysterious way, that I am not her 
former nursling ? that I am an impostor ?” 


CHAPTER XVII. 

BEATRIX STILL IN TROUBLE. 

Beatrix Rohan was seated in her own little crimson 
parlor in Mrs. Punnet’s lodging-house, upon the morn- 
ing subsequent to her adventure with Colonel Brand 
from which Sir Lionel Charlton had so successfully 
extricated her. 

Her fire was burning, for the April day had in its crisp 
atmosphere the chill of March. 

Her easy-chair was drawn up before the hearth. The 
Times newspaper lay upon her knees, but her thoughts 
were busy, not with political or social news, but with 
the problems of her own existence. 

She believed herself perfectly safe from the dis- 
covery of her enemies, under Mrs. Punnet’s roof. In 
the great wilderness of London she deemed herself 
as secure as she would have been in a South American 
forest. She had money enough to keep her in comfort, 
even in luxury, during the ensuing twelvemonth. She 
had only to wait for her twenty-first birthday, when 
she would be her own mistress, and when she would 
have nothing more to fear from the Brands. 


Beatrix Still in Trouble . 


15 1 


But then life at Mrs. Punnet’s would be dreary, 
lonely, solitary. The year would be, as Sir Lionel 
Charlton had said, like a year in prison. She thought 
of him, so beautiful, after a noble and manly type, so 
brave and chivalrous, and her pale cheeks flushed and a 
soft and tender light glowed in her dusk -gray eyes. She 
remembered his promise of calling upon her that morn- 
ing, and also his promise to enlist in her behalf the 
friendship of his aunt, Lady Folliott, and it seemed to 
her that a home under the protection of his relative 
would be delightful. 

She had made the best toilet at her command. She 
had made no purchases of clothing since her arrival in 
London, but her hand-bag had contained an ample sup- 
ply of linen, and her dress was still very present- 
able. 

“ If Lady Folliott should invite me to Folliott Court,” 
she thought, “ I shall have to buy a suitable outfit, but 
there’s time enough for that. I shall certainly not go 
out upon a shopping expedition this morning.” 

In the midst of her reflections, she was startled by a 
knock upon her door. 

Thinking a servant was come to announce her 
expected visitor, Sir Lionel Charlton, she arose and 
hastened to the door. 

Instead of beholding the housemaid, she found her- 
self face to face with Mrs. Trevor, her coinpagnon du voyage 
from Antwerp. 

“You didn’t expect to see me, I know, Miss Trist,” 
said Mrs. Trevor, in a high shrill voice, her round, red 
face beaming with pleasure. “ I am delighted to see 
you, my dear, and to see you looking so much better 
too.” 

She shook hands cordially with the young girl, and 


1 5 2 


Beatrix Rohan. 


permitted Beatrix to lead her into the room and to the 
easy-chair before the hearth. 

Mrs. Trevor was dressed with the same lack of taste- 
fulness which had characterized her traveling costume. 
She wore upon this occasion a trained pearl-colored silk 
dress, profusely trimmed, a short, black velvet jacket, 
decorated with bands of ermine fur, and a hat of garnet 
velvet covered with canary-colored plumes. Her gloves 
of pale blue were too small for her pudgy hands and 
were split down the palms. Her boots were of heavy 
morocco that had been black originally, but were now 
of a rusty brown color. 

Fat and ruddy, with small eyes, hanging cheeks, and 
thick lips, she was yet good-natured, pleasant and 
friendly, unmistakably a lady, despite her faults of cos- 
tume and of personal appearance. 

Beatrix expressed her pleasure at again meeting her 
traveling companion, and inquired after Mrs. Trevor’s 
daughter, whose dangerous illness had called her mother 
in such haste to England. 

“ My daughter is very much better, thank you, Miss 
Trist,” said Mrs. Trevor. “ The medical man is quite 
sure now that she will recover. How pleasantly you 
are settled here. Do you like Mrs. Punnet, my dear ? 
She thinks you perfection.” 

“ I like Mrs. Punnet very much indeed,” said Beatrix. 
“ I am quite at home here already. Have you received 
any news from Brussels concerning your lost pocket- 
book, Mrs. Trevor ?” 

The lady looked uneasy and troubled. 

“ I may as well come to the point of my visit at once, 
Miss Trist,” she observed kindly. “ Your question con- 
cerning the lost pocket-book opens the way to what I 
have to tell you. I had a call this morning, not more 
than an hour and a-half since, at my daughter’s house 


Beatrix Still in Trouble . 


i53 


in Kensington, from a person who sent up his card with- 
out any name upon it, but with simply the words written 
upon it : ‘ A gentleman from Brussels, on important 
business.’ Odd, wasn’t it ? I supposed, of course, that 
he was an agent of police, come to return my stolen 
pocket-book. So I went down to him at once." 

“ And he restored your lost pocket-book ?’’ questioned 
Beatrix, with an air of interest. “ Is there any trouble 
about identification, Mrs. Trevor ? Do you want my 
testimony in the case ?’’ 

“ No, my dear, no,’’ said Mrs. Trevor, hastily. “ I went 
down to the drawing-room, as I said, and my visitor 
came forward to receive me. He was not a Belgian at 
all. He was an Englishman, a gentleman as one could 
see at a glance. He was tall and thin, with little beady, 
black eyes, a long black beard, a bald head, and a long, 
thin nose, which he kept working up and down in the 
oddest manner, so that it looked like some restless wild 
creature trying to escape from his face !’’ 

Beatrix grew pale. She knew one person who 
answered to Mrs. Trevor’s description, and that person 
was her terrible enemy, Colonel Brand. 

“ What did he want, Mrs. Trevor ?’’ she asked, her 
voice fluttering. 

“I did not give him a chance to tell me at first,’’ 
answered Mrs. Trevor, smiling. “ I rushed up to him, 
you must know, thinking only of my pocket-book. 

‘ Where is it ?’ says I. ‘ Have you got it with you ? Is 
anything gone out of it ?’ He drew back and says he : 

‘ Are you speaking of your pocket-book, madam ?’ Says 
I : ‘Of what else ? I expect a police-agent to bring me 
my purse from Belgium. My pocket was picked at the 
railway-station at Brussels.’ ‘Do you take me for a 
police-agent, madam ?’ says he, his face growing red. ‘ I 
am no police-agent. I am a gentleman.’ ‘ Oh,’ says I ; 


154 


Beatrix Rohan. 


‘ you must excuse me, sir, but if you are not come to see 
me on account of the pocket-book, you must be mistaken 
in my identity. I don’t know any one in Brussels.’ * I 
am not mistaken, madam,' says he ; ‘ you are Mrs. Tre- 
vor, lately of Antwerp. I am Colonel Brand, Colonel 
Tarcas Brand, formerly of Her Majesty’s army.” 

Beatrix uttered a half-suppressed exclamation. 

“You have heard the name before, Miss Trist, I see,” 
said Mrs. Trevor. “Colonel Brand looked like a gentle- 
man, but I must say I disliked him at sight. He looked 
cruel, cunning, and treacherous. He told me that he 
had received my address from the chief of police at 
Brussels. He informed me that he is the father of that 
red-haired, yellow-faced young man who intruded into 
our parlor at the Hotel de Flandre at Brussels, and 
who made impertinent inquiries about you. I did not 
consider his relationship to that young man any advan- 
tage to him. However, he treated me politely, and said 
that his son had informed him of his call upon me, and 
that he, the colonel, not being satisfied with the result 
of that visit, had resolved to see me himself.” 

Beatrix sat quite still. She could not ask any ques- 
tions. A sense of coming trouble gathered in her soul. 
Her face grew paler ; she held her breath in keen sus- 
pense. 

Mrs. Trevor bestowed a .sharp yet kindly glance upon 
her drooping face, and resumed her story. 

“ Perhaps } r ou can guess what Colonel Brand wanted 
of me. He desired to make inquiries [in regard to my 
traveling- companion, Miss Trist. He said that he had 
obtained a description of her appearance at the Brussels 
railway-station and at the Hotel de Flandre. He asked 
me if she were about twenty years of age, if her hair 
was of a tawny color, her eyes dark gray, her complex- 
ion clear and pale ? I replied by demanding why he 


Beatricf Still in Trouble . 


155 


wished to do this. He said that he already knew it, 
having questioned the waiters at the Hotel de Flandre, 
but he desired me to confirm their story. Then I told 
him that the description was accurate. He asked me if 
I could give him your address, I answered that I could 
do so, inasmuch as I had myself recommended certain 
lodgings to you. He grew very eager at that, and 
demanded your address. I flatly declined to give it." 

“ Thank Heaven !" breathed Beatrix. 

Mrs. Trevor regarded the girl with an increasing 
uneasiness, but continued : 

“ Colonel Brand proceeded to tell me that he had rea- 
son to believe that my Miss Trist was his own niece, 
Miss Beatrix Rohan. He said that his niece was not 
perfectly sane ; that, while she was not raving mad, she 
was yet afflicted with a monomania in regard to her rela- 
tives. She believed them to be her enemies. She had 
been kept under close surveillance, her aunt fearing 
that the young lady might do herself an injury, but she 
had escaped their loving vigilance, and had fled from 
them, throwing herself upon the cold mercies of the 
world. Colonel Brand put his handkerchief to his eyes, 
and seemed greatly affected. He pictured the distress 
of the loving aunt. He spoke of the perils besetting 
the path of the innocent girl who had never in all her 
life, before the hour of her flight, been alone in the 
streets. He referred me for the truth of his story to 
Mr. James Hillsley, Upper Berkeley Street. He exhib- 
ited so much grief, anxiety, and affliction for his niece, 
that I was greatly affected, and I — I — " 

Beatrix shot a wild glance at her visitor. 

“ You gave him my address ?” she questioned. 

“ Yes," admitted the lady reluctantly. “ I thought I 
ought to do so. His story was straightforward. He 
showed the grief a parent might have shown in the 


Beatrix Rohan . 


156 


same circumstances. I remembered that you had told 
me nothing about yourself ; that there was a mystery 
about you ; and that you seemed apprehensive of pur- 
suit. Your weakness, pallor, and fatigue seemed to 
confirm his story. He said that he should go for his 
friend, Mr. Hillsley, and a police officer, and that he 
should take you under his protection in the course of 
the day, in time to catch the tidal train for Dover.” 

“ He did not come here with you, then !” 

“ No, no, indeed. My dear child, after I had told 
Colonel Brand your address, I noticed a look of exulta- 
tion in his eyes, a sort of triumphant cunning, and my 
mind misgave me. I remembered your kindness to me, 
a total stranger. I remembered that I had seen noth- 
ing in your conduct that was not sane, thoughtful and 
proper. And I had betrayed you to a person whom 
even I, dull and unsuspicious as I am, could plainly see, 
in that moment of his triumph, was your enemy ! And 
so, my dear, as soon as the man had gotten himself out 
of the house, I ordered the carriage, dressed myself, 
and hurried here to tell you what I had done.” 

Beatrix expressed her warm gratitude. 

“ Is this Colonel Brand your uncle ?” asked Mrs. 
Trevor. 

Beatrix replied in the affirmative. 

“ And your name is not Miss Trist, but Miss Rohan ?” 

“ Yes,” admitted Beatrix. “ I am that unhappy Bea- 
trix Rohan for whom Colonel Brand is searching. He 
is my aunt’s husband — my enemy !” 

In a few brief passionate sentences, she told her story ; 
how she had spent nearly all her life at school until her 
nineteenth birthday ; how she had since spent a year in 
travel with her relatives, who were also her guardians : 
how her cousin Randall Brand had besought her to 
marry him and how she had refused ; how her relatives 


Beatrix Still in Trouble, 


*5 7 


had drugged her heavily and conveyed her to the 
Chateau Valbeck, where for a month she had been 
kept a close prisoner ; how she had escaped through the 
barred window of her chamber, and, after undergoing 
various perils and adventures, had reached Antwerp, 
Brussels, London. 

Mrs. Trevor was a warm-hearted lady, and her indig- 
nation against the Brands was great, as she listened to 
the girl’s account of their cruelties and persecu- 
tions. 

“ I wish I had not seen Colonel Brand this morning,” 
she exclaimed, not a doubt of the girl’s truthfulness 
obtruding upon her mind. “How could I have 
betrayedy ou ? You mad ! Then I am mad— every- 
body’s mad \ You were so nicely settled here, Miss T — 
Miss Rohan. You could have stayed here a whole year in 
safety. Now, thanks to my folly, you will have to leave 
here at once. Colonel Brand will come for you this 
afternoon. He knows your address, and he will not 
burden himself with the guardianship of your person 
until the hour approaches for departure by the train. 
You have some hours before you. Where can you 
go ?” 

Beatrix’s thoughts reverted to Sir Lionel Charlton and 
to Folliott Court. 

“ I have no relatives besides the Blands, Mrs. Trevor,” 
she said. “ Mr. Hillsley, my trustee, has been imposed 
upon by Colonel Brand and believes me not more than 
half-sane. I cannot go to him. There is no one upon 
whom I have any claim.” 

“ Have you money, my dear ?” 

“ Enough to keep me for a year, madam.” 

“ Then you can elude your enemies/’ said Mrs. Trevor, 
cheerfully. “ If you were obliged to work for your liv- 
ing, you could readily be traced. People demand refer- 


158 


Beatrix Rohan. 


ences of governesses and teachers, and you could not 
offer these. But, as you are not threatened with poverty, 
let me give you a little advice which, silly as I have 
proved myself, you will do well to heed.” 

“ I shall be very glad of your advice, Mrs. Trevor, 
very glad of it and grateful for it.” 

“ Very good. My husband — he is dead now — was a 
Welsh gentleman by birth. His name was Owen 
Trevor. He was born at a little place called Penmawr, 
in Merionethshire, North Wales. My husband’s elder 
brother, Mr. Llewellyn Trevor, is a gentleman farmer 
and inherited the family estate. He still resides at 
Penmawr. Now, my dear, I am quite of your opinion 
that you would fail in any suit-at-law against you 
guardian. I think with you that you would do best to 
remain in seclusion until you attain you majority, and 
then come forward boldly, and take possession of your 
fortune. Penmawr is the most secluded place in all the 
British kingdom. You would be safe there, and the 
Trevors would try to make you happy. I will give you 
a letter to them, recommending you to their friendly 
offices and you can go to Penmawr either now or a week 
or month hence, as you may choose.” 

“ I should like the letter,” said Beatrix. “ It may be 
of great service to me.” 

“ There are rough people in Merionethshire,” said 
Mrs. Trevor ; “but you will find kind hearts there, and 
you will be absolutely safe there from the pursuit of 
your enemies. Do not tell even Mrs. Punnet where 
you are going. If you will take a circuitous route, and 
spend a week by the way, you will completely throw 
your pursuers off your track. Have you writing- 
materials, my dear ? I will write a letter immediately.” 

Beatrix was obliged to ring for the required articles, 
and Mrs. Trevor wrote a long letter, addressing it to 


Beatrix Still in Trouble . 


159 


Mr. Llewellyn Trevor, and after submitting it to Bea- 
trix she sealed it with her own seal, which hung from 
her watch-chain. 

Beatrix put the letter in her pocket. Mrs. Trevor, 
having finished her errand, soon after took her leave. 

As soon as she had departed, the girl sought a private 
interview with her landlady, paid her a month’s rent, 
and announced her immediate departure. 

“ Will you send out for a cab for me, Mrs. Punnet ?” 
she asked. “ I hope to return to you at some future 
time, but I am obliged to leave London within the 
hour.” 

Mrs. Punnet had already been cautioned by Mrs. 
Trevor not to question her young lodger, and accord- 
ingly she did not. She sent out to order a cab, and 
Beatrix went up to her pretty little parlor to gather up 
her few effects. 

“ I dare not remain to see Sir Lionel Charlton,” she 
thought. “ Colonel Brand may arrive at any moment. 
I will leave a message for the baronet. Perhaps some- 
time I may see him again.” 

She took up her hand-bag, having put on her cloak 
and hat, and gave a last, long, wistful glance around the 
room. What a pleasant refuge it seemed ! How secure 
she had felt within these walls ! And now she must go 
forth again, a fugitive and a wanderer ! Would she 
find a safe refuge elsewhere ? Or must her life hence- 
forth be one of constant flights and terrors ? 

She descended the stairs slowly to the drawing-room. 

It was untenanted. She was about to pull the bell 
when the housemaid opened the door, announcing : 

“ The cab is waiting, Miss. And here’s a young gen- 
tleman wishes to see you !” 

With these words, the housemaid ushered Sir Lionel 
Charlton into the room. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

BEFRIENDED AGAIN BY SIR LIONEL. 

Beatrix advanced to meet her visitor with a quick, 
bright smile and a vivid blush, and extended her hand 
to him. Sir Lionel took her hand in his, and inquired 
if she were quite recovered from the effects of her pre- 
vious night’s adventure. 

“ I am quite well, thank you, Sir Lionel,” said the 
young girl, the flush fading as swiftly as it had appeared 
upon her clear, pale face. “ And you are well 
also ?” 

The young baronet gave a smiling affirmative. 

If he had seemed handsome to Beatrix upon the pre- 
vious evening, when her mind had been torn with 
anxieties and terrors, he looked more than . handsome 
now in the broad daylight, when she had opportunity to 
survey him calmly. His lithe, graceful figure, his 
noble face, with its olive skin, his jet black eyes, his 
well-shaped head, covored over with close-curling rings 
of jet black hair, his fine mouth, shaded by a luxuriant 
mustache, his beardless chin, square and massive, indi- 
cating a manly, resolute, yet refined nature, all made up 
a picture to be admired and remembered. 

“ You are dressed to go out,” said the young baronet, 
glancing at the girl’s hat and cloak. “ I fear, Miss 
Rohan, that my call is inopportune.” 

[160] 






CATLIKE, SHE paused to listen. — See Page 197 . 
































































































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Bef riended Again by Sir Lionel. 161 


“To the contrary,” said Beatrix, “it is most oppor- 
tune. Had you come a few minutes later, you would 
not have seen me. I am about to resume my flight, Sir 
Lionel, I told you last evening my history. You know 
who was the man from whom you rescued me. He — 
he has traced me to this house !” 

“ After all our precautions !” exclaimed the young 
baronet. “ How can it be possible ? Have not your 
fears misled you, Miss Rohan? Have you seen him 
to-day ?” 

“ No,” replied Beatrix. “ He did not follow me 
home, Sir Lionel. We completely eluded his pursuit. 
But he has visited Mrs. Trevor this morning. Mrs. 
Trevor is the lady with whom I traveled from Antwerp 
and Brussels. She was robbed of her purse at the 
Brussels railway station, and so left her English address 
with the Brussels chief of police. Colonel Brand easily 
obtained her address, and called upon her this morning, 
and learned from her that I was at this house. She 
had no sooner told him where he could find me than she 
repented her confidence and came to me, warning me 
to fly. Colonel Brand, knowing where I am, will not 
burden himself with the care of me until this afternoon, 
but he will come for me with Mr. Hillsley and a police 
officer, and take me away in time to catch the tidal 
train for Dover. Such, at least,” added the young girl, 

“ is his intention.” 

“ And you were about to go forth again in search of a 
secure refuge ?” said the baronet. “ You told me, did 
you not, Miss Rohan, that you had no friends in Lon- 
don ?” 

“ I have no friends in London, nor elswhere !” said 
Beatrix, in a tone whose desolateness went to Sir Lio- 
nel’s heart. “ I am without relatives other than the 
Brands. I was educated in schools. I know no one to 


162 


Beatrix Rohan. 


whom I can go — no one who will hide me from my ene- 
mies !” 

“ You were about to leave this house. Had you no 
shelter in prospect ?” 

“ Mrs. Trevor gave me the address of her brother-in- 
law in Wales, and desired me to go to him. She gave 
me a letter to him.” 

“ But he might not choose to assume the responsi- 
bility of protecting you,” said Sir Lionel. “ He may be 
very unlike Mrs. Trevor. His home, even if he should 
welcome you to it, might not prove congenial nor 
pleasant.” 

“ It is possible, but any safe shelter would be Heaven 
to me now.” 

“ Miss Rohan,” said the young baronet, earnestly, 
“ your mother and mine were dear and intimate friends. 
You have a claim upon my protection. I can offer you 
a safe and pleasant home with my aunt, Lady Folliott, 
who will receive you gladly. I had intended to ask her 
to send for you, but I know her warm heart so well that 
I beg you to forego any delay, and to let me take you 
to her. She will receive you as a daughter !” 

Beatrix hesitated. 

“ At Folliott Court,” continued Sir Lionel, following 
up his advantage, “ you will find refined society, affec- 
tionate friends, and pleasant companionship. Lady 
Folliott will be delighted to receive you. She is fond 
of young people, and expects a niece to live with her, a 
young lady from India, who is possibly already at the 
court. Let me take you to my aunt, Miss Rohan. You 
will certainly be safe with her !” 

Beatrix yielded to his persuasions. 

“ I will go, Sir Lionel,” she said, “if you are quite sure 
that she will* not be displeased by my unannounced 
coming. I am in a desperate strait and ” 


Befriended Again by Sir Lionel \ 163 


“ I am quite sure, Miss Rohan,” said the baronet, as 
she paused, his face beaming. “ But you will not wish 
to travel by night, and it is now too late for the day- 
train. I think too that Colonel Brand, not finding you 
here, will search the railway-stations this evening. We 
must of course leave this house immediately. I cannof 
take you to a hotel for this day and evening. But I have 
an old friend at Notting Hill, who was for many years 
my tutor, and I shall take you to his wife and confide 
you to her care until morning. Then we will depart for 
Lincolnshire.” 

Beatrix expressed her sense of joy and relief in warm 
terms. 

“ It is quite possible that Colonel Brand may arrive 
at any moment,” said Sir Lionel, somewhat anxiously. 
“We ought not to linger here, Miss Rohan.” 

Beatrix made a movement toward the door, with the 
idea of seeking her landlady, but at that juncture Mrs. 
Punnet made her appearance. 

Beatrix hastened to make her adieux, and Sir Lionel 
then conducted her to the cab, giving the order : 

“ To London Bridge station. A half-crown extra if 
you catch the twelve o'clock express !” 

The cab rattled noisily down the street. 

“ Mrs. Punnet will think we intend to leave London 
on the train I mentioned,” said the young baronet, as they 
were hurried onwards, “ and Colonel Brand, on hearing 
her statement, will think you are gone into the country. 
There will be no one to watch the stations to-morrow 
morning when we really and truly take our departure.” 

They arrived at London Bridge station in time for 
the train Sir Lionel had mentioned. Dismissing the cab- 
man, the young baronet conducted Beatrix into the 
station. A train was upon the point of departure, but a 


Beatrix Rohan . 


164 


train had also just arrived, and a crowd of passengers 
were alighting upon the platform. 

Mingling with the throng as if they also were just 
arrived, the young couple signalled a cab and entered 
it. Sir Lionel gave the address of his former tutor, and 
they departed rapidly upon their new course. 

It became evident in the course of their journey, that 
they had not moved too soon in their effort to outwit 
Miss Rohan’s enemy. 

Notting Hill being in the neighborhood of Bayswater, 
Beatrix became somewhat nervous and uneasy, keeping 
a vigilant look-out from the windows, and fancying a 
dozen times, that she beheld Colonel Brand. 

As they entered the Uxbridge Road, however, with 
the Kensington Gardens at their left hand, a cab passed 
them slowly, with three men seated in it. 

Beatrix shrank back into the deepest shadows of her 
vehicle, white as death, and not daring to breathe. 

For in those three men she recognized Colonel Brand, 
her pitiless enemy, Mr. Hillsley, her trustee, and a 
policeman in uniform ! 

In that swift devouring glance into the passing cab, 
she saw that Colonel Brand was smiling and exultant ! 
He looked like one who is marching to an assured and 
perfect triumph ! 

It was plain that he had not yet been to Wellesley 
Terrace, but that he was on his way thither ! 

Not until the cab had entirely passed them did Bea- 
trix ventured to breathe. Then she turned her gaze 
upon Sir Lionel, her eager eyes glowing, her breath 
coming in frightened gasps. 

“ That was Colonel Brand !” she said. “ And — a police- 
officer !” 

“ Colonel Brand little dreams that you are beyond 
his reach, Miss Rohan,” said the baronet. “ By the 


Befriended Again by Sir Lionel. 165 


time he has discovered your flight you will be safely 
hidden from his search.” 

Beatrix began to recover her courage. Her enemies 
had not seen her. She was still safe. 

Long before the young couple had reached their 
destination, Beatrix had thrown off a great portion of 
her load of care. She had an instinctive trust in the 
young baronet ; she knew that he would protect her, 
and she banished from her countenance every trace of 
anxiety and apprehension. 

The cab stopped at last before a little red-brick box 
of a house in a quiet street, and Sir Lionel assisted the 
young lady to alight. Having dismissed the cabman, 
he pulled the garden-bell set in the gate-post of the tall, 
green board-fence. 

“ This is Gladiolus Villa, Miss Rohan,” he said. “ My 
former tutor, Mr. Clawson, and his wife live here with 
one servant. I often visit them and I believe the dear 
old people regard me as a son.” 

A servant appeared and opened the gate to them. 
Mr. Clawson was at home, it appeared upon inquiry, 
and Sir Lionel conducted Beatrix up the narrow walk, 
up the spotless stone steps, into a little lobby, and 
thence into a quaint, little, old-fashioned drawing- 
room. 

The servant disappeared with a message from the 
young baronet to her master and mistress. 

Almost immediately Mr. and Mrs. Clawson made 
their appearance, and welcomed Sir Lionel with 
effusion. 

The ex-tutor was a venerable, gray -haired man, with 
a long gray beard falling upon his breast. His light- 
blue eyes were full of kindness. His face invited trust 
and confidence. 

Mrs. Clawson was a delicate copy of her husband. 


Beatrix Rohan . 


1 66 


She was old and gray-haired, too, and the expression 
on her countenance was very like his. The two might 
have been taken for brother and sister. The sympathy 
between them, as with many elderly couples, had cre- 
ated in them a marvelous resemblance to each other. 

The baronet introduced Beatrix to his old friends and 
she was made welcome. 

“ I am come to claim your hospitality for Miss Rohan 
until to-morrow morning, Mrs. Clawson,” said Sir 
Lionel, frankly. “ I am to escort Miss Rohan to Folliott 
Court to-morrow. Until we leave town, I desire to 
place her in your charge.” 

“ Any friend of yours, Sir Lionel, is welcome here,” 
replied Mrs. Clawson. “ Let me take your hat, my 
dear.” 

She removed the girl’s hat and cloak with her own 
wrinkled, tremulous hands, and took a seat very near to 
that of her young guest. 

During the conversation that followed, Beatrix again 
told the story of her life to kind and sympathizing lis- 
teners. 

“ How little we know of the wickedness that is in the 
world !” sighed Mr. Clawson, who was an indefatigable 
student of books, but who knew very little indeed of 
human nature. “ It seems incredible that men should 
possess such a greed of money. This poor young lady 
is hunted for her fortune by men whom this insatiable 
greed seems to have converted into demons. Strange ! 
Terrible !” 

“ And by men who should make it their first duty in 
life to protect her !” said Mrs. Clawson. “ They are 
her nearest relatives, you know. But she will be safe 
here until to-morrow, and afterwards she will be safe at 
Folliott Court.” 

The day passed swiftly and pleasantly. Beatrix 


Befriended Again by Sir Lionel. 167 


remained within doors, not daring to go out upon a 
shopping expedition. Sir Lionel Charlton spent the day 
and evening at Gladiolus Villa, and left at ten o’clock 
for his hotel. 

During those hours of constant intercourse, the favor- 
able impression made by each one of the young couple 
upon the other deepened into a keener appreciation — 
into an ardent admiration — into love. 

The next morning, at an early hour, the young baro- 
net arrived in a cab and Beatrix went away with him. 
They drove to the station, seeing no hostile face on 
their arrival there, and set out in the first-class compart- 
ment of a mail train for Lincolnshire. 

“ You will soon be at home, Miss Rohan !” said the 
baronet. “ You will soon be among warm and true- 
hearted friends ! Only a few hours of travel and you 
will be as completely lost to your enemies as if you 
were dead !” 

Sir Lionel had forgotten the hopes and plans which 
Lady Folliott had formed concerning his future. He had 
forgotten that it was her chief aim in life to marry him 
to the rich India heiress. And he could not know that 
in taking the pure and lovely Beatrix to Folliott Court 
he was ensuring for her the deadly hatred of that ser- 
pent-like woman — the false Miss Bermyngham. It was 
well he could not read the future. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

WHAT CAME OF SIR LIONEL'S PROTECTION. 

It was late in the afternoon when the fly containing 
Beatrix Rohan and Sir Lionel Charlton crossed the 
moat surrounding Folliott Court, rolled through the 
shrubberies, and drew up within the carriage-porch. 

The young baronet assisted his charge to descend, 
discharged the flyman, and conducted Beatrix into the 
great marble-paved hall, the door swinging open as by 
magic to admit them. 

The gray-haired hall-porter was discovered, however, 
in attendance. He greeted Sir Lionel respectfully, yet 
with evident warmth of affection. 

“ Is Lady Folliott at home, Clark ?” inquired the 
young baronet. 

“ Yes, Sir Lionel. My lady just went up to her own 
rooms,” was the answer. 

Sir Lionel turned to the girl, who was clinging to his 
arm. 

“ Let me leave you in the drawing-room a few 
moments, Miss Rohan,” he said, in a low voice. “ My 
aunt is probably gone to dress for dinner. I will go up 
to her rooms, and bring her down to receive you.” 

He conducted Beatrix into the magnificent drawing- 
room and to a large gold-colored chair before a hearth 
upon which a sea-coal fire was growing. 

[i«J 


What Came of Sir Lionels Protection . 169 


“ Lady Folliott is a true fire-worshipper, Miss Rohan,” 
he said, smiling, as the girl’s slim, dark figure sank 
among the gold-colored cushions. “ She has fires in all 
the rooms at Folliott Court all the year round, except- 
ing only in midsummer. It is a pleasant fancy, I think, 
in our damp climate. If you will excuse me for a few 
minutes, and will make yourself comfortable, I will go 
in search of my aunt.” 

He departed upon his errand. 

Beatrix leaned back among the cushions, with vague 
apprehensions as to her reception at the hands of Lady 
Folliott, but with a delicious sense of warmth and com- 
fort enwrapping her. The lights glowed softly through 
the tinted globes of the gasoliers. The perfume of flow- 
ers came through the open doors of the conservatory in 
the dim distance, and the girl’s wandering gaze caught 
glimpses of gorgeous coloring, of crimson and scarlet 
blooms, of cool green palms, and of drooping vines. She 
basked in the heat of the fire, looked about her curiously 
and appreciatively, and waited. 

Meanwhile, Sir Lionel Charlton, who had spent years 
of his life at Folliott Court and was like a son in the 
house, went up to Lady Folliott's boudoir and knocked 
boldly for admittance. 

The baroness’s own maid opened the door to him. 

“ Tell Lady Folliott that I am here,” he said. “ I 
would like to see her as soon as possible !” 

He advanced into the boudoir, approaching the fire. 

The maid vanished into the dressing-room. 

Lady Folliott’s boudoir was a bright and sumptuous 
chamber, with a dozen wax-lights burning in silver 
sconces, with drawn curtains and plentiful lounges and 
easy chairs, and with an air of delicious home-comfort, 
the result of a perfect artistic taste. 

Sir Lionel did not sit down. In fact, he had scarcely 


170 


Beatrix Rohan . 


time to do so when the door of the dressing-room opened, 
and Lady Folliott, still in her morning costume, of black 
silk, came swiftly into his presence. 

“Lion, my dear boy !” she exclaimed, rushing towards 
him and bestowing upon him a tender, motherly embrace, 
“ I am delighted to see you ! How well you are look- 
ing !” 

The young baronet returned her embrace with a filial 
affection. He loved this stately Lady Folliott as if she 
were his own mother. Cold and haughty as she might 
be to others, proud and imperious as society found her, 
she was always sweet and gentle and tender to him. 

“ Sit down, Lion,” said the baroness. “ When did 
you leave Herefordshire ?” 

“On Monday,” replied Sir Lionel. “I have been 
stopping since in London.” 

“ I returned from town yesterday,” said Lady Folliott. 
“ I wish I had known )~ou were there ! You should 
have come up with us, Lion !” 

“ Have you guests ?” asked the baronet, quickly. 

“ Miss Bermyngham — Nerea — is come !” said Lady 
Folliott, her face lighting with a brighter radiance. 
“ She telegraphed me from London that she was at the 
Langham. Of course I went to her at once, and I 
brought her home with me yesterday. You will see her 
at dinner. She is very pretty, Lion ; very pretty and 
very sweet, with the most innocent, childlike ways. She 
is soft and clinging — a creature to be petted and loved.” 

The baronet smiled at Lady Folliott's enthusiasm. 

“ I shall be glad to see Miss Bermyngham,” he said ; 
“ but I have something that I wish to say to you first of 
all, Aunt Folliott, something of importance.” 

“ Well, what is it, Lion ?” inquired the baroness, seat- 
ing herself close beside Sir Lionel and taking his hand 
in hers. “ Do you need money ? And have you made 


What Came of Sir Lionel's Protection. 171 


up your mind at last to solicit a pecuniary favor of me ? 
My dear boy, as I have told you a hundred times, my 
purse is open to you. I have urged you again and again 
to make use of my purse as if it were your own, but you 
have been dreadfully stiff-necked and obstinate in your 
independence ; you know you have, Lion ! Shall I give 
you a blank check ?” 

“ No, Aunt Folliott, I am not prepared to resign my 
stiff-necked independence yet,” declared the young 
gentleman. “ With my simple habits, I find my income 
of four hundred a year more than sufficient for my 
wants. I do not want a pecuniary favor, but I ask your 
hospitality and kindness for a friend whom I have ven- 
tured to bring with me to Folliott Court.” 

“ Any friend of yours is welcome here, Lion,” said 
Lady Folliott. “ Is your friend in the drawing- 
room ?” 

The young baronet replied in the affirmative. 

“ I will ring and order rooms to be prepared near 
yours,” said the baroness. “ I am very glad, my dear 
boy, that you have felt sufficiently at home here to 
bring a friend with you. A little gayety will, I think, 
please Nerea.” 

The baroness was about to ring and order certain 
rooms to be prepared for the occupancy of Sir Lionel’s 
friend, when the young man detained her. 

“ Let me tell you the whole story first, Aunt Fol- 
liott !” he exclaimed. “ I have much to explain to you. 
In the first place, the friend I have ventured to bring 
to Folliott Court— the friend for whom I solicit your 
kindness — is a young lady.” 

The baroness started back. 

“ A young lady !” she repeated. 

“ Yes, Aunt Folliott, the most beautiful young crea- 
ture you ever saw,” cried Sir Lionel, with enthusiasm. 


172 


Beatrix Rohan , 


“ She is only twenty years of age, a perfect lady, as 
lovely, as pure, and as sweet as an angel. You have 
only to see her to love her — ” 

“ Is this paragon an old friend of yours, Lionel ?” 
asked Lady Folliott, somewhat coldly. “ A month ago, 
when you were here, you said nothing about her. She 
must be a new acquaintance.” 

“ I saw her for the first time in my life the day before 
yesterday,” said the baronet. “ It was in Oxford Street 
— in the evening. She was flying along the street, pur- 
sued by a man whom I had the pleasure of knocking 
senseless. I accompanied her to her lodgings. Yester- 
day morning I called upon her and found her upon the 
point of flight, her enemy having tracked her to her 
temporary home. She has no friends. She has no 
home. And so, Aunt Folliott, I have brought her to 
you — ” 

“ An adventuress ! A mere clever adventuress !” 
ejaculated Lady Folliott. “ This creature has imposed 
upon you, Lion. I cannot receive her into my house. 
You must send her away at once. She is some bold 
and scheming woman who has taken a fancy to your 
handsome face, and who thinks you rich, and that it 
would be fine to become Lady Charlton !” 

“Aunt Folliott, you are mistaken. She is a pure, 
noble, lovely girl, as beautiful as a vision. She is of 
gentle birth and great fortune. She is an orphan. I 
was sure that you would open your arms to her !’* 

“ Lion, your simplicity is incredible ! This woman is 
one of those adventuresses of whom we read every day in 
the newspapers. I refuse to see her. You must send 
her away at once — ” 

“ Very well, Aunt Folliott,” said Sir Lionel, arising, 
his handsome face darkening. “ She shall go immedi- 
ately, but I shall go with her ! Unfortunately, presum- 


What Came of Sir Lionel's Protection. 173 


ing that you would gladly welcome my friend into your 
house, I sent away the fly that brought us here. If you 
will, therefore, order a carriage to convey us to Spald- 
ing, I will not detain you longer.” 

He bowed courteously and moved towards the door. 

Lady Folliott sprang after him, catching his arm. 

“ Lion, my dear boy,” she exclaimed, “ shall an adven- 
turess come between you and me ? Shall a woman 
whom you saw first only two nights since come between 
you and the aunt who has been to you a mother ?” 

“ You must have a poor opinion of me to think me 
capable of bringing an adventuress to Folliott Court,” 
said Sir Lionel, pausing, with his hand upon the door- 
knob. “ You must consider me as incapable of judging 
character — ” 

“ I think you are taken in by a pretty face, Lionel. 
The girl is artful and sly. Don’t draw away, Lion. 
Don’t go ! Are you determined to leave the Court if I 
refuse to receive this girl ?” 

“ Certainly,” said the young baronet, his face growing 
grave and stern. 

“ Then I will offer a compromise,” said Lady Folliott. 
“ It is to oblige you, Lion, and not because I think the 
girl worthy our consideration ; but if you will remain 
with me at the Court I will send your friend to my 
land-steward’s house, and give directions that she shall 
be treated as an honored guest. Will that do, Lionel ?” 

“ It will not do !” cried the baronet, sternly. 

“ But surely, Lionel, you would not have me intro- 
duce this waif and stray to my sweet Nerea — my inno- 
cent little niece ?” 

“ I have remained here too long, Aunt Folliott,” said 
Sir Lionel. “ This young lady whom I brought here is 
no whit inferior to your niece, were your niece an 
angel ! A lodging in the house of your land -steward is 


174 


Beatrix Rohan . 


not what I seek for my friend. I could have found her 
refuge elsewhere, but I was sure that you would give 
her tenderness, sympathy, loving care and protection. 
Pardon my mistake. I will go now — ” 

“ Is the boy mad ?” cried Lady Folliott, still clinging 
to him. “ Will you throw me over, Lionel — your aunt, 
your second mother — for a woman of whom you know 
nothing ?” 

“ There you mistake, Aunt Folliott. This young 
lady is the daughter of my mother's dearest school- 
friend, Miss Mary Harcourt, who married the Honor- 
able George Rohan, Herefordshire, the cadet of a noble 
family. It is Miss Beatrix Rohan for whom I solicited 
your hospitality. She is an orphan, as I said, and has 
no relatives living — at least none near enough to be 
interested in her — with the exception of the family of 
Colonel Brand. The wife of Colonel Brand is her aunt, 
the sister of her late father. This aunt is her natural 
heir should she die before attaining her majority, and 
the Brands therefore have presecuted her most cruelly, 
endeavoring to force her into a marriage with their son, 
her cousin, or else into her grave !” 

“ Are you quite sure of this Lion ? It sounds like the 
story of a madwoman.” 

“ I am quite sure, Aunt Folliott. Miss Rohan is as 
sane as you or I, although Colonel Brand would like to 
have people think her mad. She has been cruelly 
persecuted. If you would see her, all your prejudices 
would melt away like snow in the sunlight.” 

Lady Folliott looked keenly at the baronet. 

‘‘You are greatly interested in her, Lion,” she said. 
“ It is natural, perhaps, since you have discovered that 
her mother was your mother’s dearest friend. I am 
older than you, and it is equally natural that I should 
shrink from making acquaintances except in the regu- 


What Came of Sir Lionel's Protection. 175 


lar manner. I will go down and see Miss Rohan, 
Lionel.” 

A smile of rare brightness and sweetness gathered 
about Sir Lionel’s mouth. He knew all that was com- 
prehended in this concession ; he knew that Lady Fol- 
liott had resolved to befriend Beatrix. He put his arm 
around the lady’s waist and kissed her cheeks. 

“ I thought I could depend upon your good heart, 
dear Aunt Folliott,” he said. “ And now come with me 
to the drawing-room. Miss Rohan will wonder what 
keeps us so long.” 

“ One word more, Lion,” said the baroness. “You 
know the hopes I have formed for your future and that 
of Nerea. My niece is well worthy of your love. She 
is rich in her own right. She is prepared to like you. 
If you marry her, you shall inherit all that I possess. 
You know it is the dream of my life to have you and 
Nerea become husband and wife.” 

“ Yes, I know, but — ” 

Lady Folliott interrupted him. 

“ Folliott Court, as you know, belonged to your 
uncle,” she said, “ and you, therefore, had a claim to 
inherit it. But my large fortune was all spent upon it, 
and Lord Folliott, in love and justice, bequeathed it to 
me. My sweet niece is as dear to me as a daughter. 
She thinks Folliott Court a Paradise. Now, Lion, 
although my niece is rich, yet I conceive that she has 
claims upon me. So, also, have you. I cannot divide 
this great estate between you, so I shall bequeath it to 
you both if you marry each other, or to that one of you 
who does not decline such alliance. Pardon me for 
repeating what I have said to you before, Lion, and 
don’t fall in love with Miss Rohan,” she added with 
assumed playfulness, yet with deep meaning. “And 
now that I have warned you, let us go down.” 


176 


Beatrix Rohan. 


The young baronet would have made some response, 
but Lady Folliott rung her bell, and ordered rooms to 
be prepared for her guests. Then she passed out into 
the hall. He followed her, and they descended to the 
drawing-room. 

At their entrance, Beatrix arose, and Sir Lionel pre- 
sented her to the baroness. 

Lady Folliott was surprised at the girl’s grace and 
loveliness, at her air of thorough good-breeding, 
her exquisitely refined manners, her gentleness, yet 
her evident spirit. She could not but acknowl- 
edge to herself that the pink-and- white prettiness 
her niece compared with this girl’s pure Greek 
beauty as a wax-light compares with a star. The child- 
ish, painted face of the false Miss Bermyngham would 
never elicit a second glance when Beatrix Rohan should 
be near. The down-cast black eyes of the impostor^ 
half-hidden by her heavy lids, would seem vailed and 
furtive before the pure, frank, open eyes of dusk gray, 
which now gazed upon the face of Lady Folliott in such 
earnest appealing. 

The baroness could not resist that gaze. She was 
warm-hearted and impulsive, quick to love and quick 
to hate. And so, although she had meant to be very 
formal with the young stranger, she bent down and 
kissed her and bade her welcome in her kindest, heart- 
iest manner. 

Tears sprang to the girl’s eyes. 

“ Sir Lionel has told me all about 3mu, Miss Rohan/' 
said Lady Folliott. “You will be quite safe here, my 
dear. We will discuss your history at our leisure ; 
but, in any or all events, whether we can free you 
legally from the guardianship of your unworthy rela- 
tives or otherwise, I promise you my protection. You 
shall not be sent back to the care of the Brands,” 


What Came of Sir Lionel's Protection. 177 


“I feel as if I were hidden from all pursuit here, 
madam," said Beatrix, her low, sweet voice quivering. 
“You are very kind to me, and I am very grateful. 
Surely, it was God who sent Sir Lionel Charlton to 
rescue me that night in Oxford Street.” 

Lady Folliott bent and kissed the girl again to hide 
her own sudden emotion. 

“ Let me show you up to your own room, Miss Rohan,” 
she said. “ You will have barely time to prepare for 
dinner. We dine at seven.” 

“ I have only the clothes I wear, madam,” said Bea- 
trix, blushing. 

“ We will remedy that to-morrow,” said Lady Folliott, 
with a smile. “ In these days a complete wardrobe is 
soon supplied.” 

“ There is one thing more to be said, Aunt Folliott,” 
said Sir Lionel. “ Miss Rohan does not wish to be 
called by her own name here. She knows that Colonel 
Brand will not leave a stone unturned in his search for 
her. He will set detectives at work to look for her. He 
has already learned without doubt from her landlady at 
Wellesley Terrace, that I called upon Miss Rohan, and 
that she departed with me. He may choose to look for 
me in Herefordshire and also here, in order to make 
inquiries of me concerning her. If he should then learn 
that a Miss Rohan is at Folliott Court — ” 

“ I see, Lionel,” interrupted the baroness. “ Miss 
Rohan must forgo her own identity here, and be known 
as Miss Clare, my own young relative. No one at the 
Court shall be told your true name and history, except- 
ing Nerea, Miss Bermyngham, my own niece. Now 
that is settled, Miss Clare, let me show you up to your 
room. Lion, your chamber is ready. A servant will 
show you to it.” 

Put Sir Lionel declined the proffered guide and 


i ;8 


Beatrix Rohan. 


departed to the room he always occupied at the Court. 
Lady Folliott, with a slower step, conducted Beatrix up 
the great staircase to the grand upper hall and to a suite 
of rooms nearly opposite her own. 

These rooms were stately in size and furnishing, with 
picture-hung walls and frescoed ceilings — rooms fit for 
a princess. The sliding-doors connecting the various 
chambers of the suite were all open, and a vista of glow- 
ing wax-lights, ruddy fires and luxurious easy-chairs 
was spread before the tired young fugitive. 

“ I will send my own maid to you directly, my dear,” 
said Lady Folliott, “ and I will come for you myself in 
time for dinner.” 

She kissed Beatrix and withdrew. 

“ An extaordinarily beautiful girl,” thought the baron- 
ess, as she went to her own apartments. “ And as 
lovely as she is beautiful ! Lion is right. She is pure 
and noble and good. Yet I could wish that Lion had 
not seen her. Pretty as Nerea is, this Beatrix will far 
outshine her. It is very unfortunate. But after all, 
everything may come out right yet. I may be able to 
force things into the right channels. I may be able to 
bring about this match upon which I have set my heart ! 
I know that I shall bring it about,” she added, more 
resolutely. “ I never fail in anything I undertake— I 
shall not fail in this !” 




CHAPTER XX. 

ANOTHER ENEMY. 

Beatrix had not been in her boudoir many minutes 
when a servant entered, bringing- upon a small salver a 
tiny silver-pot of tea and other light refreshment. The 
young lady drank a cup of the refreshing beverage, and 
then made certain improvements in her toilet, brushing 
her hair and dress, and putting little frills of lace about 
her neck and wrists. She had made these trifling 
changes in her appearance and was all ready for dinner 
when Lady Folliott’s maid came in to attend her. 
Beatrix declined her services, and sat down to wait for 
the appearance of her hostess. 

Lady Folliott appeared at five minutes to seven, in a 
dinner robe of black silk, with a tea-rose in her corsage, 
her gray hair put away from her fair face in thick puffs, 
her countenance beaming with kindness and hospitality. 

Beatrix looked down involuntarily at her own cos- 
tume. 

“ To-morrow,” said the baroness, with a smile, “ we 
shall indulge in that greatest delight of women, my 
dear, the ordering of a lady’s complete outfit. We are 
quite alone this evening, so your dress won’t matter. 
You will see only Sir Lionel, myself, and my niece, who 

[i79l 


i8o 


Beatrix Rohan. 


has but just arrived from India, and who is the dearest, 
sweetest, loveliest, little creature on earth ! I want you 
and Nerea to love each other. My little niece is used 
to solitude, and has had but few intimate friends. Her 
father died in India but little over a year ago, and 
Nerea conceived a fanciful notion that she had inherited 
his heart-disease, and so shut herself up, refusing to see 
much company. She needs a friend of her own age, and 
I hope you will be that friend. She is twenty-three 
years of age ; you are twenty. You two must have 
many tastes in common.” 

Beatrix was warm-hearted, and, like her hostess, quick 
to conceive likings and aversions, but she was not one 
to promise her friendship lightly to a person whom she 
had never seen, and without knowing what basis that 
friendship would have to rest upon ; so she bowed 
gravely, and only expressed a hope that Miss Bermyng- 
ham and she would become friends. 

“ You cannot help loving Nerea,” said Lady Folliott. 
“ It is the desire of my life,” she added, a little hesitat- 
ingly, that Nerea, who is my own sister’s daughter, and 
Sir Lionel Charlton, who is my late husband’s nephew, 
may love each other and become husband and wife. 
Their marriage would make me perfectly happy, and it 
would secure to them both this estate of Folliott Court. 
But come, my dear. We must go down.” 

She did not notice the swift pallor that overspread 
the fair, sweet face of Beatrix, nor the startled look that 
appeared in the sweet, dusk-gray eyes. The next 
moment the girl was herself again, calm as a summer’s 
morning, serene and self-possessed. 

They descended to the drawing-room together. 

Sir Lionel was ^awaiting them and came forward to 
meet them. 

As Beatrix met the tender inquiry of his black eyes, 


Another Enemy . 


181 


a sudden vivid stain of scarlet replaced the pallor of her 
cheeks. 

“ I fancied that Nerea would be waiting for us,” said 
Lady Folliott, with a glance about the drawing-room. 
“ Ah, but here she comes !” and her face lighted up 
with smiles. 

The tap of tiny boot-heels was heard upon the 
marble pavement of the hall, then the door which was 
ajar was pushed open and the false Miss Bermyngham 
entered the drawing-room. 

The impostor had been informed of the arrival of Sir 
Lionel Charlton, and had accordingly attired herself 
with more than usual care. 

Her complexion of pink and white was positively 
dazzling. Her mouth was red like moist coral. Her 
rich red-gold hair, of that peculiar shade produced upon 
dark hair by the assiduous use of bleaching liquids but 
which is now and then found so colored by the hand of 
nature, was arranged in puffs and braids and curls, 
high above her narrow forehead. 

Gotten up in the most perfect manner, by the most 
skillful appliances of art, the false Miss Bermyngham 
looked to be in truth what she seemed, a blonde of rare 
and dainty type. No one would have suspected that 
the arts of skin-enameler and hair-dyer had been 
employed to make her what she seemed ; that the use 
of belladonna and various pigments had darkened her 
eyelashes and eyebrows, and made her half -hidden eyes 
seem brighter. 

She wore in her ears great, swinging, yellow topazes. 
Her dress of pale blue silk, trimmed with innumerable 
plai tings and flounces, fell behind her in a long and 
billowy train. Her neck was half-uncovered, and a 
topaz necklace with diamond pendant was displayed 
upon her fair skin. 


182 


Beatrix Rohan . 


She came forward with a delicious affectation of shy- 
ness, and looked from Lady Folliott to Sir Lionel 
Charlton with a strange, side-long glance. 

“ Nerea, my darling/' said Lady Folliott, her voice 
full of pride and tenderness for the gilded serpent in 
the guise of her dead niece, “ this young lady is Miss 
Clare. I hope you will love each other. Miss Clare, 
my niece — Miss Bermyngham.” 

The impostor shot a keen, sharp glance at Beatrix, 
and drew her breath hard. One look at the young 
stranger’s face with its rare and exquisite beauty, filled 
her small soul with bitterest envy. She saw that Bea- 
trix was the glorious diamond without flaw, while she 
knew herself to be but as glittering paste. 

The conviction that she was in every way inferior to 
this simply-attired stranger was enough to make the 
false Miss Bermyngham hate Beatrix. 

From that moment of their meeting, she was 
Beatrix’s most relentless enemy ! 

Yet she smiled and extended her hand, and mur- 
mured an expression of delight at making “ Miss 
Clare’s ” acquaintance. 

“ Nerea, love,” said Lady Folliott, “ allow me to pre- 
sent to you my late husband’s nephew, Sir Lionel 
Charlton.” 

The impostor made a low and graceful bow to the 
young baronet, and stole a look at him. 

Her heart gave a great leap as she noted the manly 
beauty of his dark and noble face. 

“ The handsomest man I ever saw in my life !” she 
said to herself. “ I shall marry him — I swear it !” 

Yet she seemed to shrink a little nearer to Lady 
Folliott in shy, maidenly embarrassment, as she ex- 
pressed her pleasure at seeing Sir Lionel Charlton, of 
whom she “ had heard so much,” 


Another Enemy . 


183 


Before the baronet could reply, the butler announced 
that dinner waited. 

“Lion,” said Lady Folliott, “give your arm to Nerea, 
and lead the way. Miss Clare, permit me to take you 
under my own wing.” 

They proceeded to the dining-hall, where an hour 
was passed, and they then returned to the drawing- 
room. The false Miss Bermyngham entertained her 
companions with brilliant opera music, and Beatrix was 
called upon to contribute her share to the entertain- 
ment. She played, without hesitation, a strange and 
wonderful bit of Italian composition, which was full 
of weird and beautiful effects, and then gave an 
English song, accompanying the piano with an ex- 
quisite contralto voice, low and sweet and tender — a 
voice that might have belonged to an angel. 

Lady Folliott wiped the tears from her eyes and 
warmly complimented Beatrix. Sir Lionel’s counten- 
ance declared his keen appreciation of the music, and 
he was not backward in expressing his pleasure in words. 

“ You ought to go upon the stage, Miss Clare,” said the 
false Miss Bermyngham, unable to conceal her spiteful 
envy. “ I am sure you would make a success. But perhaps 
you have already been upon the stage ?” she added, 
inquiringly. 

“No, I know nothing about the stage, Miss Bermyng- 
ham,” replied Beatrix, quietly, although her color 
heightened. “ I left school only a year ago, and have 
since employed my time in traveling.” 

“ My little niece intended a compliment I am sure,” 
said Lady Folliott. “ She has probably never heard a 
voice like yours off the stage, Miss Clare. Certainly, 
your voice has been exquisitely cultivated. I wish that 
Nerea could sing as you do.” 

The gentle reproof conveyed in the baroness’s words 


8 4 


Beatrix Rohan . 


and tone put the impostor upon her guard. She 
declared that she admired Beatrix's singing beyond all 
things else, and was cloyingly sweet and soft and purr- 
ing throughout the remainder of the evening. 

After Sir Lionel Charlton and Beatrix had retired to 
their several chambers that night, Lady Folliott entered 
the apartments of her pretended niece. 

The false Miss Bermyngham was in her warmed and 
perfumed dressing-room. Her curtains were drawn, 
and a dozen wax-lights burned upon her dressing-table. 
She had laid aside her dinner dress and ornaments and 
was wrapped in a dressing gown of pale blue cashmere 
trimmed with swan’s down. She was reclining in an 
easy- chair, and her maid, Finette, was brushing out 
her long red-gold hair. A regiment of bottles was 
upon the dressing-table, and as Lady Folliott entered 
Finette dexterously swept them aside into a large coffer 
arranged for their reception and dropped the lid upon 
them. 

“ Did you not bid me enter ?” asked the baroness. “I 
knocked, and thought I heard a response. I am come 
in for a little talk with you, my dear. Send Finette 
away for half-an-hour, and we will visit together.” 

Lady Folliott was smiling and pleasant, as the impos- 
tor immediately perceived, yet it was not with the best 
grace in the world that the false Miss Bermyngham 
bade Finette retire for half-an-hour, and prepared to 
listen to the baroness. 

“ I suppose you are come to reprove me for my little 
jealousy of Miss Clare to-night, Aunt Folliott,” said the 
girl, placing a chair for her visitor. “ I know that I 
behaved shamefully, and I am very sorry,” and she 
affected a pretty penitence. “ I suppose you despise 
me, Aunt Folliott, and it was all because I love you so 
dearly and I want you to love me, and — and — ” and her 


Another Enemy. 


185 


head drooped, “ I like Sir Lionel too, and I thought he 
admired Miss Clare — and I was just miserable.” 

“ My dear child — ” 

“I shall just hate her if she wins your love away from 
me !” cried the little hypocrite, with assumed passion. 
“ You are all I have in the world, Aunt Folliott, and no 
one shall take you from me !” 

“ My dear, innocent little Nerea !” exclaimed Lady 
Folliott, secretly pleased with this exhibition of seeming 
childish jealousy and affection. “ What a child you are. 
No one, not even Miss Clare, or Lion himself, can come 
between you and me. Now tell me, how do you like 
Sir Lionel ?” 

The girl’s eyes drooped. 

“ I — I could find it easy to love him !” she whispered. 

“I am glad to hear that. I could see that Lion 
admired you, Nerea. But you must be more guarded 
in the future. Do not show so plainly your secret feel- 
ings, my little artless niece. You must be friends with 
Miss Clare. She is a lovely girl, and I like and admire 
her. I am come here to-night, my darling, to tell you 
her history, and to enlist your friendship for her. Her 
real name is not Miss Clare, but it is Beatrix Rohan.” 

“ But why does she have an assumed name !” ques- 
tioned the false Miss Bermyngham, with the utmost 
seeming simplicity. “ Isn’t that very wicked, Aunt 
Folliott, to go about under a false name ? Isn’t it 
against the laws, you know ? And don’t they put 
people in prison for it ?” 

“My little innocent darling,” again breathed Lady 
Folliott, caressing the impostor, tenderly. 44 How little 
you know of the world. Miss Rohan is hiding from 
very cruel enemies, who have even sought her life. 
Lion, brought her to me, and I bade her call herself by 
my own maiden name, Miss Clare. She has known a 


1 86 


Beatrix Rohan . 


great deal of trouble for one so young, and we must be 
very good and affectionate to her.” 

Sir Lionel had found opportunity in the course of the 
evening to give Lady Folliott the details of Beatrix's 
history, and the baroness rehearsed these now to her 
pretended niece. 

“ What a romantic story !” said the impostor, when 
the lady had concluded. “Why, Miss Rohan is a per- 
fect heroine ! I shall love her dearly Aunt Folliott — I 
know I shall !” 

She covered the face of the baroness with kisses, and 
when, a little later, Lady Folliott withdrew, it was with 
the conviction that her niece was the most affectionate, 
guileless, child-like creature in the united kingdom. 

She might have changed her opinion if she could 
have seen the false Miss Bermyngham after the door 
had closed upon her. 

The impostor’s black eyes flew open wide and an 
ugly, wicked light leaped into them, and she shook her 
little clenched fist viciously in the direction taken by 
the baroness, and said, in a hissing whisper : 

“ Stupid old owl ! Miserable old idiot ! Sir Lionel 
will fall in love with this fugitive heiress under your 
very nose, if I don’t prevent it ! But I will prevent it ! 
I know the girl’s whole history, excepting only the 
address of Colonel Brand ! I’ll find that out and write 
to him ! I’ll tell him that the girl is here ! We’ll see 
— oh, we’ll see who will win in this battle, my dear Miss 
Rohan ! Sir Lionel Charlton and Folliott Court are 
both forme — for met" 



CHAPTER XXI. 
sir Lionel’s “ intentions.” 

The false Miss Bermyngham did not immediately 
carry into execution her resolve to betray Beatrix to her 
enemies. 

In the first place, as she had said in her angry and 
revengeful self-communion, she did not know the 
address of Colonel Brand. She had heard mention 
made of the Chateau Valbeck in the vicinity of Ant- 
werp, but a letter addressed to the Brands at Antwerp 
was not likely to reach them. Colonel Brand was now 
in London ; but a letter addressed to him at the London 
general post-office might never meet his eyes. 

In the second place, she was afraid of showing her 
own hand in the betrayal. She desired to work secretly 
and underhandedly, to conceal her own agency in the 
matter, and to escape all suspicion of being concerned 
in it. She well knew that if Sir Lionel Charlton and 
Lady Folliott were to become convinced that she was 
base and treacherous enough to betray the young fugi- 
tive under their protection, they would send her — the 
impostor — away from Folliott Court, and never look 
upon her face again. And so, although it occurred to 
her to address a letter to Colonel Brand, in care of Mr. 

[187] 


1 88 


Beatrix Rohan . 


Hillsley, Upper Berkeley Street, London, yet she 
refrained from doing so, believing that thus she would 
betray her own agency in the affair. 

But, though she was thus obliged to defer her intended 
wicked work, she believed that the opportunity to effect 
it, in safety to herself, would soon be afforded her. 
Colonel Brand might advertise for his fugitive niece ; or 
some one might trace Sir Lionel and the girl to Folliott 
Court ; or other chances, now unthought of, might 
occur by which Beatrix might be secretly betrayed into 
the hands of her foes. 

“ I must be patient !” the impostor said to herself. 
“ It won’t do to risk anything by undue haste. Sir 
Lionel Charlton and Lady Folliott would utterly hate 
and abhor me, if they knew the part I intend to play. 
I cannot be too guarded, too secret. It is plain that 
Sir Lionel is beginning to love this Beatrix. I will use 
every art and wile to lure him from her and make him 
love me ! And if I fail, if this girl grows dangerous to 
my plans, and if her enemies fail to discover her, then 
as a last resort, I can send an anonymous letter to Mr. 
Hillsley, her trustee. Before she shall come between 
me and the position I have set my heart upon, I will 
adopt any means to rid myself of her !” 

It was strange what a grim, hard look mantled the 
pretty pink-and-white face as she came to this conclu- 
sion, how all the child-likeness vanished from her fea- 
tures, leaving upon them an expression that was singu- 
larly wicked, and how her eyes, modestly downcast no 
longer, stared boldly before her, hard, black and glitter- 
ing, a pair of evil eyes, the windows from which now 
stared forth an evil soul ! 

In accordance with her determination to mask her 
enmity under a guise of friendliness, the usurper was 
very kind and caressing to Beatrix upon the following 


Sir Lionel's “ Intentions." 


189 


day. She proffered her sympathy in a pretty, childlike 
way, and was soft and purring in the manner that 
seemed characteristic. 

Lady Folliott and Beatrix had a long private and 
confidential interview during the day in which the 
matter of clothing was thoroughly discussed. Lady 
Folliott’s maid was called in to take the young lady’s 
measurements in respect to corsage and skirt, and these 
were duly committed to paper. 

“ I shall write to my own dressmaker, Elise, to send 
a complete outfit for a young lady,” said Lady Folliott. 
“We can safely trust the details to her, my dear.” 

“ Excuse me, Lady Folliott,” said Beatrix, gently, a 
flush rising to her clear, pale face, “ but I desire 
to limit Madame Elise to an expenditure of one hundred 
pounds. I have only four hundred pounds in my pos- 
session, and this must maintain me a year until I attain 
my majority. Something might happen to thrust me 
forth from the security of this house, and I must have 
money to keep me from want.” 

“ My dear child,” said the baroness, evidently hurt, 
“ this outfit I expect to have charged to me — ” 

“ Impossible, Lady Folliott. I am grateful for your 
kind intentions, but I am too independent — pardon me 
— to accept my clothing as a gift even from you, when 
I am quite able to pay for it myself.” 

The baroness argued the point, but Beatrix, although 
gentle, was firm. She would not be persuaded into 
accepting the outfit which Lady Folliott longed to 
bestow upon her, and her hostess was finally obliged to 
yield. 

“ Very well then, my dear,” said the baroness, “ you 
must have your own way. I will limit the expenditure 
of Elise to a hundred pounds, as you say, and you may 
defray her bill, since you insist upon doing so. As for 


1 90 


Beatrix Rohan . 


the remainder of your money, however, you can put it 
away in your trunk ; you will have no need of it. You 
are to remain at Folliott Court as my guest during the 
coming year, until you attain your majority. That 
point is settled.” 

The letter was written to the London dressmaker by 
Beatrix herself, who made sundry specifications and 
stipulations, and was despatched in time to catch the 
evening mail. 

This important duty was fulfilled before the lunch- 
eon-bell sounded. After luncheon Lady Folliott and 
her young guests, including Sir Lionel Charlton, went 
out to drive. In the evening they had music and con- 
versation, and the hours passed swiftly. 

Every day, during the days that followed, the young 
people were constantly together. They walked in the 
park, or they visited the conservatory, they rode, they 
drove, they made little excursions to places in the vicin- 
ity, they rowed upon the lake, and contrived to fill 
every waking hour with enjoyment. They were always 
attended in their wanderings by an elderly groom and 
were often chaperoned by Lady Folliott. 

The baroness watched the young people closely, but 
keen-sighted as she was, she could not distinguish any 
difference in Sir Lionel’s manner towards the two ladies. 

The false Miss Bermyngham, however, was keener of 
vision, or else her instinct assisted her. She knew that 
the baronet’s gaze oftenest sought the lovely face of 
Beatrix. She knew that his voice grew softer when it 
addressed the young fugitive ; that it was to Beatrix 
he turned when his feelings were moved ; that it was 
the sound of Beatrix’s step orjvoice that caused his face 
to kindle with sudden glow and his eyes to flash with 
sudden light. 

It is needless to say that the impostor used every art 


Sir Lionel's “ Intentions . 


»* 


i 9 i 


at her command to win the baronet from her rival. 
The dress of Beatrix had grown shabby, and was 
totally inappropriate for a dinner dress, for which pur- 
pose it was nevertheless obliged to serve. The false 
Miss Bermyngham took care that her own toilets should 
be striking, elegant and constantly fresh. She wore 
the filmiest laces, the brighest ribbons. Her jewelry 
was changed with every costume. She strove to make 
the contrast between her personal appearance and that 
of Beatrix as marked as possible, and in this she suc- 
ceeded, yet she was obliged to acknowledge to herself, 
with the deepest chagrin, that the beauty of the young 
fugitive heiress was quite independent of the adventi- 
tious aids of the toilette, and that one looking into the 
dusk-gray eyes and pure and lovely face of Beatrix 
Rohan would scarcely give a thought to their owner’s 
attire. 

At the end of a week or ten days, however, the boxes 
containing the wardrobe which had been ordered from 
London for Beatrix, made their appearance at Folliott 
Court, and the false Miss Bermyngham lost much of 
her one point of superiority. 

As may be supposed, the impostor’s hatred of the 
young fugitive had not lessened during those days of 
constant companionship and intercourse. To the con- 
trary, it had grown and strengthened into a terrible 
and consuming passion. 

Beatrix was possessed of all those charming accom- 
plishments which are considered necessary to the perfect 
education of young ladies of the present day. She had 
a genuine talent for drawing from nature and for paint- 
ing in water-colors ; she was a delightful reader ; she 
could play the piano, and sing in a sweet, delicious con- 
tralto voice as an angel might sing; having been partially 
educated in Paris, she could speak French like a Pari- 


192 


Beatrix Rohan. 


sian, and she was also versed in German and Italian. 
But the false Miss Bermyngham’s sole accomplishment 
appeared to be instrumental music. This difference 
between herself and Beatrix added fresh fear every day 
to the flames of the impostor’s jealous hatred. She saw 
that Sir Lionel bent over the drawings of Beatrix with 
interest and admiration, that he sought out picturesque 
spots upon the estate for Beatrix to sketch, that he read 
with her, in the original, portions of the works of 
Goethe and Schiller, and that, in short, the tastes of the 
young baronet and the fugitive heiress were identical, 
and that from this intimate communion of thought, she, 
the false Miss Bermyngham, was entirely shut out. 

Lady Folliott could not fail also to note the difference 
between the acquirements of the two young ladies, and 
knowing that her niece had been supplied with compe- 
tent governesses and masters, she ascribed the impostor’s 
deficiencies to the indolence induced by the climate of 
India, to ill-health, and also, in a greater part, to a 
peculiar modesty and shrinking from attention which 
she conceived to be an attribute of the usurper. 

“ She is a dear little violet,” thought the baroness, 
fondly — “ a sweet, innocent, clinging young creature, 
made to adorn a home and to win hearts rather than to 
challenge admiration. How can Lion help loving her ? 
Dear little Nerea ! He has known her for a fortnight. 
He must love her.” 

She resolved to ascertain the young baronet’s senti- 
ments towards her supposed niece at the earliest possible 
opportunity. 

That opportunity was afforded that very day. 

At a late hour of the morning, Lady Folliott entered 
the library to write a letter. This task accomplished, 
she sat down in an arm-chair before the hearth, and 
gave herself up to pleasant thought. 


Sir Lionel's “ Intentions. 


193 


The soft light stole in through stained-glass windows ; 
marble busts and statues gleamed amid the dusky 
shadows of corners and niches with spectral effect ; the 
sea- coal fire glowed redly on the bars of thfc grate and 
fender, and shot long, ruddy lances upon the carpet ; 
and a soft stillness and repose pervaded the air. 

The young people were gone out to ride, and were 
expected momently to return. Indeed, as Lady Folliott 
settled herself more snugly in her chair, she fancied 
that she heard the clatter of horse’s hoofs upon the 
bridge spanning the moat, and a minute or two later 
she heard most unmistakably the sounds of arrival at 
the great porch, and then the outer doors opened, and 
gay voices and hurrying feet resounded in the hall. 

The baroness did not stir, and the two girls, Beatrix, 
and the false Miss Bermyngham, passed on to the stair- 
case hall, and went up to their rooms. Sir Lionel, a 
little later, went up to his own apartment. And still 
Lady Folliott lingered before the library fire, thoughtful 
and alone. 

It might have been half-an-hour later when steps 
were again heard upon the marble floor of the hall, the 
door opened, and Sir Lionel Charlton entered the 
library. 

Lady Folliott welcomed him with a smile. 

“ I was just thinkingof sending up for you to come to 
the library, Lion,” she remarked. “ Have you a few 
minutes to spare for me ? Or were you in haste to 
write a letter ?” 

“ Oh, no, I have always time to spare to you, Aunt 
Folliott,” replied Sir Lionel. “ I came in only for a 
fresh volume of Goethe, but I am in no hurry for it. I 
presume Be — Miss Clare— won’t be down until the 
luncheon-bell rings.” 

“ Then sit down by me, Lion,” said the baroness, 


194 


Beatrix Rohan. 


indicating a chair quite near her own, “ and let us have 
a little confidential talk together. We have a whole 
hour before luncheon." 

The young baronet took possession of the chair Lady 
Folliott had indicated. 

“ This reminds me of the little confidential talks we 
used to have together in the days of my recklessness 
and wildness," he said, arching his black brows after a 
comical manner. “ What have I been doing now, Aunt 
Folliott ? Do you intend to lecture me as you used to 
do ?" 

Lady Folliott smiled. 

“You don’t deserve to be lectured now-a-days, Lion," 
she said, affectionately. “You are sober and thought- 
ful enough now to atone for your former wildness. I 
want to speak to you about my niece. How do you like 
Nerea ?" 

The dark olive skin of Sir Lionel reddened a little ; 
and his broad brows contracted slightly as he 
answered : 

“ I like her very much indeed, Aunt Folliott. She is 
a sweet, caressing little creature, a being to pet and to 
love— a little gushing, perhaps, and a trifle affected — " 

“ Gushing ! Affected ! What, Nerea !" cried Lady 
Folliott, horrified. “Lion, you are unjust! Nerea is 
all impulse, all sweetness, and as artless as an infant !" 

“ I was only giving my opinion, Aunt Folliott," said 
Sir Lionel. “ Nerea is charming, I admit." 

“ And you love her, Lion ?" said Lady Folliott, 
eagerly. “ You desire to make her your wife ?" 

The young man’s face grew very grave. A troubled 
look appeared in his black eyes. 

“ I like Nerea — as a cousin !" he said, frankly. “ But 
she would never suit me as a wife !’* 

“ Lion, what nonsense is this ?" 


Sir Lionel's “ Intentions . 


x 95 


“ I am sorry, Aunt Folliott, to disappoint you in your 
cherished dreams in regard to my union with your 
niece,” said the young man, gently ; “ but they are only 
dreams, and must have the fate of dreams. Nerea’s 
tastes and mine are dissimilar. I do not feel that love 
for her which it is necessary that I should feel for the 
woman who is to become my wife, Nerea and I regard 
each other as brother and sister — ” 

Lady Folliott interrupted him impatieintly. 

“ Lionel,” she exclaimed, “ you know how much 
depends upon your marriage with Nerea. No, don’t 
speak. Hear me out. Your estates are encumbered 
with mortgages. You have devoted the larger share of 
your income to paying off these mortgages, and for the 
ten years to come you will have only four hundred 
pounds a year to live upon. You are, in brief, virtually 
a poor man.” 

Sir Lionel bowed assent. 

“ I have explained to you often and often about this 
estate of Folliott Court,” continued the baroness. “ It 
brings in an annual income of fifteen thousand a year, 
its farms being all of the highest productiveness. This 
estate belonged absolutely to your uncle, George Lord 
Folliott, and your being his nephew and nearest living 
male relative, have morally a claim upon it. As it is 
freehold, you have, however, no legal claim. This you 
clearly understand. I brought to my husband as my 
dowry a handsome fortune which was all spent in 
improvements upon this property. This fortune came 
from my own family, and I think, therefore, that Nerea, 
wealthy as she is, has also claims upon me. I cannot 
divide the property. It must go to you two jointly. 
Lion, your interests are all at stake. Do not decide 
hastily against this marriage upon which I have set my 
heart.” 


196 


Beatrix Rohan . 


The baroness spoke earnestly, even imploringly. 
Her fair, handsome face wore a look of keen anxiety, 
and she laid her hand upon one of Sir Lionel’s in uncon- 
scious pleading. 

“ My dear aunt,” said Lionel affectionately, “ you have 
been a second mother to me. It pains me to go counter 
to your wishes, but marriage is one of the most import- 
ant events in a man’s life, and I must choose my wife 
for myself. Even to please you, Aunt Folliott, I cannot 
become a party to a marriage of convenience. You 
have told me that whichever of us two — Nerea or I — 
shall decline this marriage which you have proposed, 
that one shall forfeit all claim to your property. With 
all respect for Miss Bermyngham, I decline the alliance. 
Give your property to her, Aunt Folliott, but do not 
withdraw from me the affection which I prize as one of 
the greatest goods of my life.” 

He raised her ladyship’s white and jeweled hand to 
his lips. 

Lady Folliott had been about to reply angrily, but 
her heart softened under Sir Lionel’s affectionate 
caress. Her features relaxed, and she exclaimed, in a 
voice that trembled : 

“ My dear boy, why will you stand so in your own 
light ? Do not be so obstinate, so headstrong ! You 
know I love you as if you were my own son. I love 
Nerea also as if she were my daughter. You have 
peculiar claims upon my niece. Miles Bermyngham, 
Nerea’s father, was your mother’s cousin, and before his 
marriage with my sister he was your mother’s lover. 
His last will devised all his wealth to his daughter, but, 
should she die unmarried and without making a will, 
all his property is to descend to you, the son of his 
cousin, his first love. I think Nerea feels some sort of 


Sir Lionels “ Intentions .” 


197 


obligation to be thus imposed upon her to make your 
life free from cares and pecuniary anxieties — ” 

A door at the farther end of the library, which was 
slightly open, was suddenly jarred at this juncture. 
Lady Folliott and Sir Lionel were too much absorbed 
in their conversation to notice the movement. Neither 
had any suspicion that a listener was lurking within 
sound of their voices, but there was one. The false 
Miss Bermyngham had followed the young baronet 
down stairs, and had been upon the point of following 
him also into the library through another door than 
that by which he had entered, when she heard the 
sound of voices within. Being essentially cat-like in 
her nature, treacherous, a born spy, and eager to ascer- 
tain the secret opinions of others, having always a hope 
to hear something concerning herself, she paused, as 
was her frequent habit, to listen. And so she had 
heard all that had passed between the two. 

The allusion to the will of the late Miles Bermyng- 
ham had startled her, although she had been informed 
of the tenor of that will before. 

“ I wonder what Sir Lionel and Lady Folliott would 
say,” she thought, “if they knew that the real Nerea 
Bermyngham is dead and obscurely buried, and that at 
this moment Sir Lionel is the lawful owner of the wealth 
I have usurped ? But they will never know it. I shall 
keep my secret even beyond the grave. I am safe, 
absolutely safe ! I shall enjoy the property ; I shall 
marry Sir Lionel despite his objections and I shall be 
mistress at Folliott Court. But he is speaking now. 
What does he say ?” 

She bent her ear eagerly to listen anew. 

“ Aunt Folliott,” the young baronet was saying, “ I 
shall never marry from motives of policy or from grati- 
tude. I respect Nerea : I like her. But I have no 


1 98 


Beatrix Rohan . 


claims upon her or her wealth. I shall marry for love, 
and I do not love Nerea as I should love the woman 
who is to be nearest to me of all the earth.” 

“ But you do love Beatrix Rohan !” exclaimed Lady 
Folliott, impatiently, “ I have feared this, Lion. You 
do not deny it ? It was a sad day for us all when you 
found her in London. Lionel, have you told her that 
you love her ? Have you asked her to be your wife ?” 

“Not yet,” replied the baronet. “You have guessed 
my secret, Aunt Folliott. I do love Beatrix, with all 
my heart and soul. I have loved her from the hour we 
met. She is under your protection, an inmate of your 
house, and I intended to ask first of all, both upon her 
account and my own, your consent to my addressing 
her. I intended to ask you this very day. Will you 
grant it, Aunt Folliott ?” 

“ You have only known her a fortnight, Lion !” 

“ But it has been a fortnight of constant intercourse,” 
urged the baronet. “ And we became well acquainted 
in London, you know, before coming here. We have 
been thrown together constantly, and have seen more 
of each other in a single day than most people see of 
each other in months. I should love Beatrix if she were 
a beggar-maid. It is herself I love, Aunt Folliott, and 
if she will marry me, I shall be the happiest man in the 
world !” 

“ Do you think that she loves you ?” 

“ I do not know, of course. I have my fears, know- 
ing her so well and my own deserts, but I have also my 
hopes,” answered Sir Lionel. “ Have I your permis- 
sion to address her, Aunt Folliott, to tell her of my 
love ?” 

“ Not yet,” said the baroness. “ You have not known 
her long enough. Wait another month, Lion. See 
more of Nerea’s sweet, artless ways before you commit 


Sir Lionel's “ Intentions . 


199 


yourself to Beatrix. I will not consent to have you 
speak to Beatrix just yet. It is true that she is an 
excellent match, well-born, high-bred’ an heiress, a 
beauty, but your interests all lie in a union with Nerea. 
I love Beatrix ; I own it frankly ; but Nerea, with her 
soft, caressing ways, and the tie of relationship between 
us, is infinitely dearer to me, and I want you to marry 
her. Wait a single month, Lionel. See these two girls 
together ; study them more closely. For my sake, 
wait !" 

“ I will wait," replied the baronet, gravely, “ the 
specified month ; but I assure you, Aunt Folliott, that 
years of waiting will make no difference in my love for 
Beatrix. I will wait out of deference to your wishes. 
I would not be too precipitate in approaching Beatrix 
upon this subject, but at the expiration of a month it is 
understood between us, is it not, that I am at liberty to 
ask Beatrix to become my wife ?" 

“ It is so understood," said Lady Folliott, with uncon- 
cealed bitterness. “ I had set my heart upon your 
marriage to Nerea, Lionel, and I shall continue to hope 
for it. I cannot think that the great hope of my life is 
to be doomed to disappointment. But if you adhere to 
this love for Beatrix, you will forfeit all chance of 
becoming my heir ! You will go to your bride encum- 
bered with debts, and people will call you a fortune- 
hunter ! How will your proud spirit bear that ? Marry 
Beatrix, and I shall make Nerea my sole heir ! I give 
you one month to think the matter over and decide. 
We will not talk further at present 011 this subject. 
Leave me, Lionel. I want to be alone." 

She waved her hand, dismissing him. The false Miss 
Bermyngham had barely time to effect her escape 
unobserved when Sir Lionel quitted the library. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

TWO NEWSPAPER ADVERTISEMENTS. 

The false Miss Bermyngham beat a retreat to her 
own room, from which she did not emerge until the 
luncheon bell rang. Then she descended to the break- 
fast-room, as airy and gay and pleasant as usual, appar- 
ently as playful as a pet kitten. 

Lady Folliott beamed tenderly upon her. The bar- 
oness thought the impostor a delicate, dainty, sensitive 
being, made to live upon sunshine and smiles. She 
believed the girl to be deeply interested in Sir Lionel 
Charlton, and blamed herself severely for having fos- 
tered that interest. Nevertheless, she hoped in the 
depths of her own heart that the young baronet would 
appreciate the seeming artlessness and innocence of 
her supposed niece, and transfer to her his love and 
devotion'. 

“ He would have loved Nerea if he had seen her 
first/’ she said to herself. “ He pities Beatrix, but 
surely he cannot have fixed his affections upon her 
beyond the power of recall. He is proud. He will not 
willingly expose himself to the imputation of being 
called a fortune-hunter, by marrying Beatrix. Oh, I 
am quite sure that all is not lost yet !” 

After luncheon, the young people went out for a stroll 
in the park. The May air was soft and balmy, and 
[200] 



Two Newspaper Advertisements. 


201 


they remained out-of-doors for several hours, until it 
was time to dress for dinner. 

Lady Folliott had intended to seek a private inter- 
view with the false Miss Bermyngham that very day, 
and to ascertain the state of the girl’s feelings toward 
Sir Lionel Charlton, but the opportunity was not 
afforded her. 

The baroness was the first to enter the drawing-room 
before the dinner hour, and she walked up and down 
the great apartment, looking very grand and stately in 
her trained robe of black velvet, with diamonds in her 
hair and about her throat, and with an Elizabethan ruff 
of point lace rising about her long, white neck. 

She was walking thus, her face very grave and 
thoughtful, when the false Miss Berm yngham came flut- 
tering into the room. 

The baroness’s face brightened with a warm and 
loving smile, as her gaze rested upon the impostor, 
who had made an unusually brilliant toilet and who 
was looking remarkably pretty, in a peach-colored silk 
trimmed with puffs and ruffles, and with ornaments of 
the palest pink coral. 

The girl ran up to Lady Folliott for a kiss. 

“ My dear,” said the baroness, as she bestowed the 
caress, “ you are looking very lovely this evening. I do 
not see how any heart can resist you. You are a dear, 
loving little creature, Nerea, made just to be petted and 
loved. By the by, my dear, you remember what I told 
you upon that night of our meeting in London concern- 
ing my hopes for your future and that of Sir Lionel 
Charlton? I was just thinking of it. And I was 
reminded that you have never given me your opinion 
of my nephew. What do you think of him, Nerea ?” 

The girl drooped her head, hiding it upon Lady Fol- 
liott’s shoulder. 


202 


Beatrix Rohan . 


The baroness looked startled and changed color. 

“ Do you mean, Nerea, darling,” she said, “ that — 
that you are interested in Lion ?” 

There was no answer, unless a quivering of the small 
figure in her arms might be so construed. 

A look of distress mantled Lady Folliott’s counten- 
ance. A fear assailed her lest she should have led 
this girl to fix her heart upon Sir Lionel Charlton, and 
lest sorrow to her supposed niece should result from 
well-meant plans. 

This fear was confirmed by the hypocrite, who pres- 
ently whispered tremulously : 

“You — you told me, Aunt Folliott, that you wanted 
me to marry Sir Lionel, and he is so handsome, and so 
— and so — ” 

“ And so you like him, dear ?” 

The girl nodded silently. 

Lady Folliott made no answer, but kissed the impostor 
very tenderly and gravely. There was a silence between 
them, which was broken by the sound of approaching 
steps in the hall. The false Miss Bermyngham broke 
from the clasp of the baroness, and hurried to a window, 
looking out, apparently to hide her emotion. Lady Fol- 
liott had scarcely composed her countenance when Sir 
Lionel Charlton entered the apartment. 

And directly after him appeared Beatrix. 

The young fugitive heiress was dressed in a pure gray 
silk, with a knot of scarlet ribbons at her throat, and a 
scarlet velvet sash tied carelessly about her waist. Her 
hair was arranged in picturesque fashion, and its tawny 
crimps and waves contrasted finely with the deeper, 
ruddier, artificial -looking coloring of the false Miss Ber- 
myngham ’s tresses. 

Lady Folliott greeted her guest with smiles, yet with 
a certain bitterness which she found it difficult to con- 


Two Newspaper Advertisements. 203 


ceal. Had it not been for Beatrix, she said to herself, 
Sir Lionel Charlton would have fallen in love with 
Nerea. Greatly as she liked Beatrix, she thought it 
peculiarly hard to herself and her supposed niece that 
the young fugitive, with the piquant beauty, vivid intel- 
ligence, and noble character, should be brought just at 
this time into such close contrast with that pretty little 
ingenue, the false Miss Bermyngham. 

“ I cannot believe that the mischief is done, however,” 
she said to herself. “ Beatrix is as generous as the sun. 
Suppose I were to tell her outright, vailing my purpose, 
of course, that it is the one desire of my life to see 
Lionel and Nerea husband and wife ? If I were to tell 
her that, I am sure that if Lion were to ask her to marry 
him she would refuse him — she has such a nice sense of 
honor — such a keen sense of gratitude ! And she would 
never betray my confidence. I think I’ll tell her this 
very evening. She has doubtless forgotten the hint I 
gave her upon the subject upon that night of her arrival 
at the Court.” 

The baroness pondered this new idea throughout the 
dinner hour, giving way to frequent abstractions, from 
which she aroused herself with sudden starts and 
apologies. 

After dinner they returned to the drawing-room. 
They had scarcely settled themselves — Lady Folliott 
with her wool embroidery, Beatrix with her drawing, 
Sir Lionel with a book of engravings, and the false Miss 
Bermyngham at the piano — when the butler entered 
with the post-bag, which he delivered into his lady’s own 
hands. 

A messenger was despatched twice each day to the 
little post-office at Folliott Fens. The morning-mail 
was considered of most importance, being generally 
heavier ; but the post-bag was quite full to-night. 


204 


Beatrix Rohan . 


Lady Folliott unlocked the bag with her own private 
key which hung from her watch chain, and emptied let- 
ters and newspapers upon the table. 

As the butler retired, the young people laid aside their 
occupations and regarded the baroness with expectancy. 
The false Miss Bermyngham came flying from the piano, 
her pink-and- white face all eagerness, crying out : 

“ Is there something for me, Aunt Folliott ? There 
must be something for me, you know. There should be 
a letter from Emmanuel about that set of rubies — they 
must be mounted by this time — and Elise must have 
finished my new embroidered polonaise, and — ” 

She paused for sheer lack of breath. 

Lady Folliott smiled indulgently upon her, and 
resumed her task of sorting the letters. 

“ Two for you, Lion,” she said, handing them to him. 
“ The London mail was heavy to day. Nothing for you, 
Beatrix, my dear, but for you ‘ no news is good news.’ 
There are no London letters for you, Nerea, darling, but 
the Indian mail is in. Here are two letters for you from 
India.” 

The impostor started. 

“ For me ?” she exclaimed, opening her eyes suddenly 
and involuntarily, but dropping the heavy lids upon the 
instant over the bold, evil black eyes. “ For me ?” 

“ Yes, for you, dear. You seem surprised,” said Lady 
Folliott. “ I do believe, my dear child, that you haven’t 
written to any one in India since you arrived in Eng- 
land. Is not this so ?” 

“ I wrote to Norton— my dear old nurse and maid— 
from London,” said the false Miss Bermyngham, with a 
sickly sort of smile. “ I was too anxious and impatient 
to wait until just before the mail should leave — in fact, 
there was a mail on the point of departure, I now 
remember. But these letters were sent after me by 


Two Newspaper Advertisements . 205 


next post. You will excuse me, Aunt Folliott, if I read 
them ?” 

She took up the two envelopes and retired to a little 
table in a distant corner upon which were placed two 
wax lights. 

Sir Lionel Charlton busied himself with his own 
letters. Beatrix resumed her drawing. Lady Folliott 
read her letters — she had received several, the majority 
of them begging communications — and the impostor 
was entirely unnoticed, as she turned her back to her 
companions and tremblingly proceeded to examine the 
missives she had received. 

They were of course intended for the real Miss Ber- 
myngham, the pale little insignificant looking girl who 
was buried in an obscure grave under a false name, but 
the impostor had no scruple about reading them. 

The first letter she examined was a pleasant, gossip- 
ing communication from a lady friend of the dead 
Indian heiress, containing Calcutta society news, and 
allusions to old mutual friends ; but it was of no import- 
ance and the girl laid it down with a sigh of relief. 

“ I don’t know what I dreaded,” she said to herself, in 
her own heart. “ But an awful fear and horror came 
upon me at sight of the Indian post-mark. For a 
moment I thought I was going to faint. What a 
wretched coward I am, in spite of my boldness and 
audacity ! What letter is this ? The handwriting is 
poor enough. It must be from that doting old nurse- 
woman, Norton. She seemed fairly to worship her 
mistress. The letter is no account ; but I may as well 
read it.” 

The envelope was of course blue paper. The sheet 
within was similar ; the handwriting weak and poor ; 
the words ill-spelled and the style illiterate, but the 


206 


Beatrix Rohan . 


contents of the letter proved to be of the most remark- 
able and absorbing interest. 

A strange terror gathered upon the girl as she read. 
She caught her breath sharply. Again that sensation 
of fainting came upon her. The paper rustled in her 
hands, and a quick, defiant, horrified look shot in one 
bold blaze from her black eyes. 

The first page of the letter contained such expres- 
sions of love and tender yearning as an old nurse might 
be expected to lavish upon the young mistress who had 
been as near to her as her own child ; and such items of 
news as a trusted dependent might be expected to send 
her young lady. But upon the second page occurred 
this paragraph : 

“ My mind misgives me, my deer Miss Nerea, about 
that yung woman that you took as your made to Eng- 
land. She may be all rite, and again she may nott. 
Tee day after you saled, a police-offiser in plain close 
came to inquire of me who the yung woman was that 
you took with you for your made. I told him that her 
name was Agatha Walden. He wanted her description. 
I had to describe her. When he found out that her 
complexin was fare, and that she had lite hare, then he 
said as he was on the rong sent ; that he was after a 
gurl with black hare, which was a murdress. He thot 
that this murdress gurl wood attempt escape from the 
countrie, and he did not no but she was gon as your 
made. But Agatha Walden did not answer his descrip- 
tion, and he said the gurl he wanted was probly hidin’ 
in the toun somewhare. 

“So, my deer, althow your made is not the gurl he 
wantid, and Ime mity glad of it, for I shouldn’t sleep 
nites if I thot you had a murdress to wate on you, and 
ready to cut your throte and poison you if you spoke 


Two Newspaper Advertisements. 207 


sharp to her, the hussy ; yett Ime afrade this Agatha 
may have folts and perhaps turn out some was rong, 
althow she had sutch good references. Keep a sharp 
eye on her, my deer. I onely hope as Ime doin her an 
unjustis. 

“ That murdress woman the policeman was affter 
must hav been a reglar bad one, for just won weke after 
he came to see me along came anuther person to inquire 
after her too. And this last fellow was mity curious in 
his inquiries after your made. Seems he was hunting 
down every person that had left Calcutta within three 
weeks. But Agatha’s description puzzled him to. I 
think he wan’t more’n haf sattisfied when he went awa. 
The last thing he sez, sez he : if it wasn’t for the hare 
and complexin — and there he stopd. 

“ This sets me thinkin, dear Miss Nerea, what terrible 
people thare is in this world. Do be cairful. Don’t 
trust that smilin made of yours too much. I one she is 
pretty and like a child, but you must be on your guard 
against every won.’' 

There was more in the same strain. The false Miss 
Bermyngham— she who had entered the service of the 
India heiress under the assumed name of Agatha Wal- 
den — read every line with a devouring gaze. 

When she had finished the letter she read anew the 
paragraphs we have transcribed. 

Gradually her coolness and self-confidence returned 
to her. A smile— strange and wintry, but a smile- 
gathered anew on her red mouth, and she thought : 

“ I outwitted them most thoroughly. As that police- 
man said, ‘ the hair and complexion ’ are an obstacle 
not to be gotten over. And if they trace that— that 
woman under the disguise of Agatha Walden, and fol- 
low her to England, why, they are stopped at the Lon- 


208 


Beatrix Rohan . 


don railway terminus by the statement that Agatha 
Walden is dead. And they will even be shown her 
grave ! I am safe — safe — safe !” 

Her face beamed now with a look of triumph. She 
was herself again. She thrust the nurse's letter in her 
pocket, and taking the other in her hand approached 
Lady Folliott, who was removing the wrappers from 
the newspapers. 

“ One of my letters was from dear old Norton, Aunt 
Folliott,” she said, lightly. “ This is from Mrs. Carson, 
an old friend of mine, and of yours also, I think. She 
visited you at Folliott Court when she was in England a 
year ago. Would you like to see what she writes ?” 

She gave the letter into the baroness’s possession, 
and waited until it had been read. After comments had 
been made upon it, she resumed charge of it, and took 
up a copy of the Tunes, saying with a laugh : 

“ I like to look at ‘ the agony column ’ and read the 
personal notices. Don’t you, Beatrix ? Ah, isn’t this 
odd ? Just listen to this notice, Trixy, dear,” and the 
impostor grew soft and purring and caressing, while a 
treacherous look came in sidelong fashion from her eyes, 
“ does this mean you ? ‘ A liberal reward will be paid to 

any one giving information of the whereabouts of Miss 
Beatrix Rohan to her guardian and friends. Miss 
Rohan is twenty years of age, of medium height, very 
fair, with golden-brown hair, deep gray eyes, and 
slender figure. Has plenty of money in her possession 
and is supposed to be living under an assumed name in 
lodgings. She is educated, refined and accomplished^ 
sane on all subjects but one ; is very plausible and 
would not be deemed insane by a casual acquaintance. 
Apply to Mr. James Hillsley, No. — Upper Berkeley 
Street, or to Colonel Brand, Minton’s Hotel, Piccadilly, 
London.’ " 


Two Newspaper Advertisements. 


209 


A haunted expression came into the eyes of Beatrix. 

“ You are safe here, Miss Rohan,” said Sir Lionel, in a 
low voice. “ You need have no fears.” 

Lady Folliott opened her India newspaper with the 
intention of turning the subject. 

“ I always find something interesting in the Calcutta 
journals,” she observed. “I nearly always come upon 
a familiar name, or some curious fact. Now here is a 
singular advertisement,” and she lifted her eyes to 
glance benevolently upon the little group. “ It smacks 
of the horrible, though. Just hear it !” 

And with kindly design of diverting the mind of 
Beatrix from her own anxieties, Lady Folliott read the 
notice of which she had spoken, as follows : 

“ One Hundred Pounds Reward. — The above-named 
reward will be paid for information leading to the dis- 
covery of one Lilias Voe, who is supposed to have killed 
her husband and child upon the 19th ult. by poison, 
and who fled upon the same night. Is believed to be 
still in Calcutta. Said Lilias Voe is twenty-three years 
of age, is small and delicate, has dark complexion, black 
hair and black eyes. Is an actress by profession and 
capable of assuming characters foreign to her own. 
Apply—” 

Lady Folliott allowed the newspaper to fall into her 
lap. Sir Lionel made some remark appropriate to the 
reading. No one noticed that the false Miss Bermyng- 
ham had averted her face, and that upon its pink-and- 
white prettiness was a look of horror unutterable-^-that 
in her great staring black eyes was an expression of 
cowardly terror — and that one hand was clutching at her 
red-gold locks as if she would assure herself of their 
color ! Did that singular advertisement concern 
her ? 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

THE IMPOSTOR’S TREACHERY. 

Before the attention of her companions could be 
called to her strange silence, the false Miss Bermyng- 
ham had conquered the frightful terrors which assailed 
her, and had attained to something of her usual calm- 
ness. 

It was marvelous what a power of self-control dwelt 
in that slender frame of hers ; what an iron will was 
hidden beneath that pink-and-white prettiness, those 
soft, cooing ways, that innocent, childlike seeming ! 

And yet, conscious that there was something strange 
and ghastly still about her face, she presently arose and 
walked to one of the windows with a step that faltered 
in spite of herself, and stood staring out upon the ter- 
race and lawn and moat-bridge with bold, black, des- 
perate eyes. 

She heard Lady Folliott and Beatrix discussing the 
advertisement of Colonel Brand, but their words struck 
upon her hearing as meaningless sounds ; she did not 
listen to them. But, after a little, the baroness took 
up her Indian newspaper again, which lay upon her 
knee, and as her eyes rested again upon the singular 
advertisement she had read aloud for the purpose of 
diverting the mind of Beatrix from that other adver« 
tisement which the impostor had read, §he said : 

[210J 


The Impostor s Treachery . 


21 1 


“An odd name that — Lilias Voe ! A murderess! 
And so young, too ! How could a woman murder her 
husband and child ? She must have been mad ! No 
mother while in possession of her right mind, would have 
willfully destroyed the little life which had sprung 
from her own ; could have stricken out the light from 
the loving eyes and baby face that had lain upon her 
breast ; could have hushed forever the sweet prattling 
voice that lisped her name ! The woman was surely 
mad.” 

A tremor shook the slight form at the window. No 
one noticed it, nor did they notice how rigid the impos- 
tor’s figure grew after that manifestation of emotion. 

“ This notice has an unaccountable fascination for 
me,” said Lady Folliott, after a short pause. “ She was 
an actress, it says. Did you ever see her, Nerea, dar- 
ling ? Did you ever see this actress, Lilias Voe ?” 

The false Miss Bermyngham did not turn around. 
She appeared to be watching intently some object upon 
the lawn. But she answered in a strained, hard voice, 
which had yet in it an artificial lightness : 

“ I, Aunt Folliott ? What should I know of actresses ? 
You forget,” and her tones became lower and graver, 
“ that I have not attended any place of amusement for 
a year — not since papa’s death ! I never heard of the 
actress you have read about — I don’t know anything 
about actresses.” 

“ Forgive me, Nerea, darling,” said the baroness ; “ I 
must seem very thoughtless. And yet I supposed that 
you might have seen this actress in former days, or that 
you might have heard of her. 1 am not fond of the hor- 
rible,” she added, with a smile, “so we will dismiss this 
advertisement, which has come up so oddly and which, 
as I said, had a very singular fascination for me." 


212 


Beatrix Rohan . 


Thus dismissing- the subject, Lady Folliott turned the 
newspaper and plunged into the Indian society news. 

The impostor continued to stand at the window and 
to stare out upon the lawn, gardens and park with wide- 
open eyes in which was an evil and defiant expression. 
What were her thoughts ? What had called that hag- 
gard and ghastly look to the pretty, childish mouth and 
eyes ? Whatever it was, she presently put it from her, 
and when Lady Folliott called to her, telling her some 
item of Calcutta news, the false Miss Bermyngham 
turned from the window and approached the baroness 
with a soft, sinuous grace and with downcast eyes and 
a face all smiles and gayety and sweetness. 

“ What ! Mary Campion married !” she exclaimed. 
“ And to that tall, awkward, red-haired Captain Har- 
rock ? That is news, Aunt Folliott ! And yet she has 
been engaged to him for years. Is any one else whom 
I know married or dead ?” 

A little discussion upon the various items of society 
gossip followed. The impostor bore her part in it as 
well as the real Miss Bermyngham could have done. 
She seemed familiar with every name mentioned ; she 
told little stories and anecdotes about family friends, 
and was laughing and light-hearted, and never for one 
instant at a loss for an appropriate remark or allusion. 

After a time the impostor sauntered to the piano and 
executed some brilliant opera music. Beatrix was 
called upon for a song and accompaniment, and the 
evening wore away. The tea-tray was brought up at 
half-past nine, and at eleven o’clock the party separated 
for the night. 

The false Miss Bermyngham entered her boudoir, 
locked the door, and passed on into the adjoining dress- 
ing-room. 

A dozen wax-lights burned softly upon the low 


The Impostor s Treachery. 


21 3 


marble mantelpiece and dressing-table. A sea-coal fire 
glowed redly in the grate. A big chair, upholstered in 
pale blue, was drawn up on the hearth-rug and upon 
the chair was thrown a furred, white dressing-gown. 
Jewel-cases filled with sparkling gems littered the 
tables. The French maid, Finette, was engaged in 
polishing a magnificent diamond necklace that lay 
across her hands and upon her knees like a river of 
light. She arose at the entrance of her young mistress, 
and dropped the ornament into a brass-bound casket 
before her which contained the remainder of the 
parure 

“ What are you doing, Finette ?” demanded the false 
Miss Bermyngham, a little sharply, as she crossed the 
floor, and halted before the fire. 

“ I was only polishing the necklace, mademoiselle/' 
said Finette. “ Ma foi ! Such diamonds ! They are 
fit for a queen, my lady. I never saw such gems 
before !” 

“ They are all very rare and fine,” remarked the 
impostor, with a pleased smile. “ My papa selected 
them with the greatest care. He was twenty years in 
collecting the jewels in that set. They are all East 
Indian gems.” 

“ They are like stars, my lady,” said Finette, with 
enthusiasm. “ You should marry, mademoiselle — 
pardon — and be presented at court, and wear these 
diamonds at your presentation. Even your queen of 
England, with her Koh-i-noor and crown and jewels 
would turn to stare at mademoiselle.” 

“ I shall be presented by and by, perhaps before my 
marriage,” said the impostor. “ My aunt, Lady Folliott, 
desires me to wait until my marriage, however, and I 
may choose to wait.” 

“ Mademoiselle will make a great sensation at court,” 


214 


Beatrix Rohan. 


said the maid, who had long since learned that her 
young mistress was accessible to flattery. “ Mademoi- 
selle would make a lovely bride ; she will look like a 
fairy. The housekeeper was saying this evening at tea 
that Sir Lionel Charlton was Miss Clare’s lover. I made 
bold to contradict her. Miss Clare is very beautiful, 
but who would look at Miss Clare when my lady is 
near ?” 

The impostor’s pretty scarlet mouth contracted a 
little. 

“ So that is the servants’ gossip, is it ?” she asked. 
“ Some ladies, Finette, would scorn to listen to the talk 
of the servants’ hall, but I like to know what is said 
below as well as above stairs. And so the housekeeper 
thinks Sir Lionel Charlton in love with Miss Clare ?” 

“Yes, my lady. And the housekeeper told me, my 
lady, that if you should die unmarried, before attaining 
your majority, that Sir Lionel Charlton would inherit 
all your wealth. She said that Mr. Bermyngham had 
made a will to that effect. Surely that is not true, my 
lady ?” 

“ What does it matter whether it be true or false ?” 
said the impostor somewhat sharply. “You may 
undress me, Finette.” 

The Frenchwoman silently obeyed the bidding of her 
mistress. The silken robe was removed and the furred, 
white dressing-gown, all warmth and perfume, donned 
in its stead. And then the false Miss Bermyngham sat 
down in a low chair before the dressing-table and Fin- 
ette brushed out her silken lengths of yellow hair. 

“ Mademoiselle has superb hair,” said the French- 
woman, at last. “ Superb ! So rich, so thick, so 
golden ! I have seen hair like this but few times, my 
lady. It is not often that this shade comes natural.” 

“What do you mean by that ?” asked the impostor, 


The Impostor s Treachery . 


215 


looking into the mirror with sleepy, half-shut eyes that 
yet watched the dark and sallow face of her attendant 
with the keen scrutiny of a lynx. “ How does this yel- 
low shade come, if not naturally ?” 

She drew a long tress over her own fingers and 
examined it carefully. It was soft, lustrous, and evenly 
tinted, and redolent with perfume. 

“ Why,” said Finette, “ in these days they have 
bleaching liquids and golden dyes and what not. Act- 
resses know all about them — ” 

The false Miss Bermyngham started. 

“ Dear me, you pulled my hair ; you are a savage, 
Finette,” she said, petulently. 

“Pardon, mademoiselle. I will be more careful. 
Has mademoiselle never heard of the Liquid Gold, the 
Aura, the — ” 

“Never!” interrupted the impostor, vehemently. 
“ What are they ?” 

“ Why, dyes to change dark hair into golden, my lady. 
Of course, mademoiselle, who is a blonde, would not 
have need to change the color of her hair ; of course, 
mademoiselle’s hair is the real golden by nature, but 
there are many less fortunate, and they, desiring blonde 
hair resort to dyes.” 

The Frenchwoman plied her long-bristled, ivory- 
backed brush with gentle assiduity. Her mistress con- 
tinued to look into the mirror, on either side of which 
clusters of wax-lights burned softly, and her gaze 
dwelt furtively upon the face of her attendant. 

Suddenly the maid’s face lighted up. She uttered an 
exclamation, and paused with uplifted brush. 

“ What is it, Finette ?” demanded the girl. 

“ Nothing, mademoiselle ; only I fancied that the 
roots of your hair were dark. They look black — ” 

“ Nonsense, Finette !” exclaimed the false Miss Ber- 


2l6 


Beatrix Rohan. 


myngham, quite sharply. What an idea ! It is the 
shadow falling on my head. Take a candle and look. 
You are so near-sighted — you told me so yourself when 
I engaged you — that you would fancy anything. The 
roots of my hair black ? I could fancy you had been 
drinking. A repetition of such vagary upon your part, 
Finette, will lose you your present comfortable 
quarters and the very handsome salary I am giving 
you.” 

The impostor’s coolness and haughtiness quite 
quenched Finette. She murmured an apology, declar- 
ing that she had spoken thoughtlessly, and that she 
could now see distinctly, that what she had taken to be 
the coloring of the roots of her lady’s hair was merely 
a shadow flung from the girandole. 

“ See that you don’t make such another mistake,” 
said her mistress, quietly. “ It may result in something 
more than the loss of your place.” 

The Frenchwoman’s sallow cheeks flushed a vivid red. 
The threat of the young lady was evidently full oE 
meaning to her — a meaning intensely disagreeable. 

“ Bien, mademoiselle,” she said. “ I will remember.” 

The ceremony of brushing the young lady’s hair was 
completed in silence. 

“ Twelve o’clock !” said the impostor, with a glance 
towards the mantel-piece. “You may leave me, 
Finette. I want to write a letter or two, and I’ll do it 
this evening while I am in the mood. I had a letter 
from my dear old nurse in India to-night, and somehow 
I can’t wait until morning to answer it. Lay out my 
night-dress, Finette, and go.” 

The maid finished her duties and departed. 

When she had gone, the impostor secured her doors 
and re-entered her dressing-room. 

“ I wonder if my hair does really look black at the 


The Impostor s Treachery . 


217 


roots ?” she said to herself, pulling out one long golden 
hair and examining it critically. “ Nonsense ! It was the 
shadow falling upon it. I have been careful to excess. 
Yet nevertheless I will be still more guarded. I will 
arrange my hair every day instead of every third day. 

‘ Eternal vigilance is the price of liberty.’ I find it easy 
to attend to my own hair after Finette retires at night, 
and she certainly does not suspect — she cannot suspect 
— that the color of my hair is not natural.” 

The impostor slipped on a dressing- jacket over her 
white gown, and, producing a couple of keys which she 
wore upon a golden chain about her neck under her 
dress, she unlocked one of her trunks, and brought to 
the light a massive brass-bound casket, the size of which 
was a little more than a foot square. 

The second key upon her chain opened this casket, 
which was filled with bottles and boxes and gallipots of 
cosmetics for the skin, and liquid applications for the 
hair. 

The false Miss Bermyngham was an artist in the 
peculiar line now indicated. She applied a golden-tinted 
fluid to her hair with a tiny sponge, exhibiting a bound- 
less patience and attention to minute points, and half- 
an -hour’s steady work satisfied her. 

“ That will do !” she thought, contentedly. “ I defy 
anybody to discover any flaw or ‘ shadow ’ now about 
my hair. In the morning I will touch up my complex- 
ion as usual. I suppose Finette would give her right 
hand to possess the secret of this casket, if she only sus- 
pected its existence. But if she were to discover this, 
and a thousandfold more also, she would never dare to 
betray me ! — thanks to my astuteness in securing a maid 
with a bad previous history. She knows that I know 
that she robbed her former mistress in Paris, and she 


2 1 8 


Beatrix Rohan. 


knows that I know that the French police have offered 
a reward for her, and she knows that at the first sign of 
her treachery to me I would betray her to justice ! She 
fears me, child as she thinks me. That is well !” 

With a smile on her scarlet mouth, the girl stowed 
her precious casket away, securely in its place of con- 
cealment, and locked the trunk, placing the keys in her 
bosom. 

Finette had pushed a small table before the fire, 
placing upon it her mistress’s exquisite little ebony 
desk — the desk which had belonged to the real Miss 
Bermyngham. The girl now took possession of the 
easy-chair, unlocked the desk, and took out certain 
letters and diaries, which had been written by the 
India heiress. 

“ My handwriting is very like hers,” she thought, 
studying the penmanship attentively — “ the same 
angular English hand, thanks to the masters who teach 
it. I suppose there is scarcely any variation in the 
penmanship of ninety-nine women out of every hun- 
dred. vSome of her letters are a trifle peculiar. I must 
copy them over and over until to make them in that 
way will be as second nature to me. Old Norton’s 
letter must be answered, I suppose ; and the sooner 
the better, since I have not written to her at all. I 
will relieve her mind about the girl Agatha Walden — 
I’ll tell her that the girl is dead.” 

She practiced the handwriting of the true Miss Ber- 
myngham for a full hour, and then wearying of her task, 
deferred her letter to Mrs. Norton until the succeeding 
evening. 

But there was one task she would not defer. 

She was full of hatred of Beatrix. The pure and 
exquisite beauty of the fugitive heiress aroused her 
bitterest envy. She had overheard Sir Lionel Chari- 


The Impostor s Treachery . 


219 


ton’s avowal of love for Beatrix when in conversation 
with Lady Folliott, and this avowal had quickened her 
dormant capabilities of evil into activity. She was 
resolved to betray Beatrix at once to her enemies. 

In the bottom of her writing-desk she found some 
coarse writing-paper and envelopes, both of a yellowish 
color. She destroyed all of this except enough for one 
letter. This one letter — the message of betrayal — she 
set herself to concoct with all the ability she possessed. 

She wrote with her left hand in an awkward style, 
and took care to spell her words incorrectly, borrowing 
an idea from the missive of good Mrs. Norton. Her 
letter, when finished, read as follows : 

Folliott Fens, Lincolnshire, ) 
May 19th, 1873. j 

Mister Colonel Brand, Minton's Hotel London : 

I am in the habbit of taking in the times at a penny on the 
second da)’, wich is comon in thees parts, and i see your 
advertizemint aboutt a yung leddy which name is Bee- 
trix Rohan. I make bold to anser and claim the reward. 
Sir Linel Charlton is vis ting his ant, Leddy Folliott, of 
Folliott Cort, near this village. He brot with him a 
yung leddy he called Miss Clare, but one of the servants 
at the Cort bein my cuzzin toled me that the yung 
leddy’s furst name is Beetrix, and her frens has ben 
crooel to her, and she is a hidin from them. I think 
this Miss Beetrix Clare is your Miss Beetrix Rohan. So 
no more at present from yours truly. Ann Clark. 

This delectable composition was regarded by its 
author with admiration. She sealed, stamped, and 
addressed the envelope, and placed it in the pocket of 
her morning robe, which lay upon a chair, ready for 


use. 


2 20 


Beatrix Rohan . 


“ I must deposit it in the post-office myself,” she 
thought. “ I cannot put it in the post-bag. I cannot 
trust Finette to post it. Fortunately, the Folliott Fens 
post-office is also a fancy-goods shop. I ’ll go in in the 
morning , and buy some Berlin wools and drop in my 
letter. I have done a good evening’s work. I flatter 
myself that Miss Beatrix Rohan is disposed of. When 
she is removed from my path, I fancy I sha’n’t have 
much difficulty in winning Sir Lionel Charlton. All I 
want is a clear field !” 

She arose yawning and slowly disrobed. Fifteen 
minutes later her lights were extinguished, with the 
exception of her usual night lamp, and she had fallen 
asleep, her red-gold hair streaming over her pillow, her 
pretty pink-and-white face looking almost like a mask 
in the dimness, save for the smile of exultation that yet 
lingered about her lips ! 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

THE RESULT OF THE TREACHERY. 

Her treacherous letter written, the false Miss Ber- 
myngham now devoted all her energies to the task of 
posting it secretly. 

Upon the morning following its concoction, she arose 
early and spent an hour at her toilet, calling into requi- 
sition the resources of her hidden brass-bound casket, 
and making up her pink-and-white complexion, before 
she summoned Finette to her assistance. She felt that 
she could defy her maid’s keenest scrutiny in regard to 
her hair, and was unusually gracious, condescending 
and pleasant. 


The Result of the Treachery . 


22 


She descended to the breakfast-room at the usual hour. 
Sir Lionel Charlton was standing before the fire and 
greeted her with the usual salutations. Beatrix and 
Lady Folliott soon appeared, as did the morning post- 
bag. 

After breakfast the baroness excused herself upon the 
plea of having letters to write, and retired to her own 
apartments. 

“ We will have our usual walk in the park, will we 
not ?” asked Sir Lionel, looking from one to the other of 
the two girls. 

Beatrix glanced at the false Miss Bermyngham and 
smiled assent. The impostor appeared to reflect, and 
cried out in her impulsive fashion : 

“ Oh, I’m so sorry ! But I can’t go. It is too bad, 
isn’t it now, Trixy ? But, you see, I must match those 
Berlin wools in my chair-cover, and I want some narrow 
lace, and a hundred other trifles, and I must go over to 
Folliott Fens for them. I’ll drive over in Aunt Folliott’s 
dear little pony-phaeton, and I won’t ask you to go with 
me, Trixy. I’ll make all the haste possible, and perhaps 
I’ll join you in the park.” 

She rang the bell and ordered the vehicle she had 
mentioned. Then, with laughing adieus, she hurried 
away and disappeared up the stairs. 

Beatrix and Sir Lionel procured their hats and went 
into the garden. 

They had vanished into the soft shadows of the park 
when, nearly an hour later, the false Miss Bermyngham, 
in an exquisite morning costume of blue cashmere and 
silk, and with a blue hat on her head, and long, white, 
embroidered gauntlets on her hands, came down the 
stair and out into the carriage porch. 

Lady Folliott’s phaeton was in waiting. A pair of 
beautiful shaggy-maned ponies were attached to it, and 


222 


Beatrix Rohan . 


in the high single seat behind was seated an elderly 
groom, in livery, with folded arms. 

The impostor was assisted into the broad, luxurious 
seat in front, took up her reins, and drove rapidly down 
the avenue, across the moat bridge, and out at the open 
gates into the high road. 

Her face never flushed nor paled, it was impossible 
for her emotions to betray themselves through the paint 
so artistically laid upon the countenance, but this morn- 
ing her secret delight and exultation showed them- 
selves in the glittering light that shot from her black, 
bold eyes, wide open now that there was no one to look 
into them, and in the strange evil smile that flickered 
about her lips. 

She drove up the principal street of Folliott Fens, 
and halted abruptly before the fancy-goods shop, in 
which was also the post-office. The groom assisted her 
to descend and remained standing at the heads of the 
horses. 

With her gown rustling behind her as she walked, 
and with her treacherous letter safely hidden in her 
pocket, the girl swept into the little shop. 

Upon one side, behind a long counter, were fancy 
goods in variety : upon the other was the post-office 
department, with rows of numbered and lettered boxes, 
with a little door for the delivery of letters, and under 
it a small slit in the wall for the reception of drop 
letters. 

The false Miss Bermyngham gave one glance towards 
the post-office and then advanced to the fancy goods 
counter, behind which an elderly lady was seated upon 
a high stool engaged in fancy crochet work. 

“Can you match these wools?” inquired the im- 
postor, laying down a little parcel. “ They are all new 
colors, and l want them exactly matched.” 


The Result of the Treachery. 


223 


The shopworn an engaged in the task with that 
enthusiasm so often displayed by people in her line of 
business. The girl made some pretense of assisting 
her, but, tiring of the task, walked to the door, peeped 
into the post-office boxes curiously, looked in at the 
delivery-door and managed to slip in her letter unseen. 

Then, all smiles and goodhumor, she returned to the 
assistance of the shopwoman, and presently completed 
her purchases. The parcel was carried out for her, 
and she was soon on her way back to Folliott Court. 

“ That was well managed,” she said to herself. “ No 
one saw me drop in the letter. No one will suspect 
my agency in the matter. The only thing that will 
strike this Colonel Brand as mysterious will be the fact 
that his mysterious correspondent does not come for- 
ward, confess her indentity, and claim her reward. It is 
quite possible that her failure to come forward may 
show that the girl’s betrayal is not an affair of greed. 
But no one can suspect me. They dare not suspect 
me.” 

And with her mind quite at rest, she re-entered the 
mansion of Folliott Court and returned to her own 
rooms. 

She was unusually affectionate toward Beatrix 
throughout that day and the day that followed. She 
lavished pet names upon the young fugitive heiress ; 
she visited her in Beatrix’s rooms, and besought Beatrix 
to return the visit ; slie was soft, sweet, and caressing, 
kissing — Judas-like — even while she betrayed. 

Now Beatrix, it must be confessed, did not greatly 
like the pretty supposed niece of her hostess. Beatrix’s 
nature was essentially frank, truthful, noble, and some 
subtle instinct warned her that the false Miss Bermyng- 
ham was secret, artful and an adept in dissimulation. 
She blamed herself for her opinion of the impostor; 


224 


Beatrix Rohan. 


she tried to like her ; but still her distrust of the girl 
grew upon her with every day and hour. She was too 
generous to impart this opinion to another, and 
endeavored to return the overtures of the usurper with 
warmth and interest. 

Towards evening of the second day, the false Miss 
Bermyngham grew restless and uneasy. She went up 
late to dress for dinner and returned to the drawing- 
room in a very brief space of time. She wandered 
frequently to the windows, watching the drive, and 
seemed abstracted and ill at ease. 

But, contrary to her expectations, Colonel Brand did 
not make his appearance at Folliott Court that even- 
ing. 

During the next day, the impostor was very gay and 
very affectionate in her manner to Beatrix, who 
reproached herself for her distrust of Lady Folliott's 
supposed niece and endeavored to atone for it by an 
answering warmth of manner. 

They rode together in the morning, attended by Sir 
Lionel Charlton. After luncheon they walked in the 
park, received calls, and practiced music. Then Bea- 
trix strolled into the conservatory, and soon after Sir 
Lionel followed her, leaving Lady Folliott and her sup- 
posed niece together in the drawing-room. 

“ Beatrix is gone to gather flowers for her hair and 
corsage,” remarked the baroness. “ Go after her, 
Nerea, dear, and gather some for yourself. There are 
some delicious fragrant violets just in bloom, I see.” 

“ I don’t care for flowers to-day, Aunt Folliott,” said 
the impostor, with a sidelong glance at the clock and 
another at the window — “ at least for natural flowers — 
little, wilty things, not fit to be compared to French- 
made flowers ! I like artificial flowers best of all, 
except for bouquets.” 


The Result of the Treachery . 


225 


Lady Folliott looked surprised, but she made no 
reply. It would have been hard to tell whether the 
girl were serious or not. 

“ I suppose that Beatrix and Sir Lioifel would not 
care to have me follow them into the conservatory.” 
said the false Miss Bermyngham, after a pause, betray- 
ing a decided jealousy and dissatisfaction. 

“ Nerea, darling — ” 

“ Why do you speak so reproachfully, Aunt Folliott ? 
Have I not told the truth ? Can you not see, as I see, 
that Sir Lionel loves Beatrix ?” cried the false Miss 
Bermyngham, her voice quivering. “ And — and — after 
all that has been said — after your hopes and plans — 
after your endeavors to interest me in Sir Lionel — I 
feel — I feel — as if I had not been well treated !” 

She put her lace-trimmed handkerchief to her eyes 
and gave a seemingly heart-broken little sob. 

Lady Folliott was distressed. 

She gathered the girl to her breast and exclaimed : 

“ My poor little niece ! My poor Nerea ! I am sure 
that I have done very wrong in planning and talking as 
I have done ! I shall never forgive myself if my folly 
has wrecked your happiness. I am sure that Lion has 
only a passing fancy for Beatrix. It must be so. I 
wish — I wish she had never come here !” 

“ Then you don't like her, Aunt Folliott ?” 

“ Yes, dear ; in spite of my devotion to your interests ; 
in spite of the fact that she interferes with the one dar- 
ling scheme of my heart ; in spite of the fact that she is 
the rival of my own niece, I can’t help loving her ! 
She is noble, lovely, winning, and beautiful. I admire 
and love her, yet I wish Lion had never brought her 
here.” 

“ If she would only go away, I know that his heart 
would turn to me,” whispered the girl, with pretended 


226 


Beati'ix Rohan. 


shyness. “ He is so chivalrous, you know, Aunt Fol- 
liott, and her distress appeals to him, and he likes to 
protect a girl so beautiful and. friendless ; but if she 
were gone, I know that I could win him !” 

She spoke in a tone of quiet assurance that impressed 
Lady Folliott. 

“ My dear child," she said, “ we must not make specu- 
lations upon what might happen if Beatrix were gone 
from the Court. She is to remain here a year. I love 
her, and you also love her. Let us try to make her life 
happy, and, as for our own lives, perhaps all will come 
out right yet. We must hope for the best." 

The girl uttered assent, and disengaged herself from 
Lady Folliott’s embrace. 

A minute or two later she stole quietly out of the 
drawing-room. Instead of going upstairs to dress, she 
crossed the great hall and went into the dim library. 
Here she ensconced herself in a recessed window, and 
set herself to watch the avenue with feverish impa- 
tience. 

“Colonel Brand must be here to-night," she said to 
herself. “ I dare not stay with Aunt Folliott longer, 
lest he be ushered in, and I betray my satisfaction at 
his arrival. He will surely be here directly. We shall 
see if Miss Beatrix Rohan remains here a year ! We 
shall see what effect her departure will have upon Sir 
Lionel Charlton. She will soon be removed from my 
path forever !" 

While she thus waited, impatient and anxious, Bea- 
trix returned to the drawing-room, a basket of flowers 
in her hand. 

She was dressed in an iron-grey cashmere walking- 
suit, and wore a knot of blue ribbons at her throat. 
Her dusk-gray eyes were shining with a happy light. 
Her tawny hair, burnished like gold, was crimped and 


The Result of the Treachery. 


227 


wrinkled and waved, in picturesque fashion, above her 
low, broad forehead. She sat down in an easy- chair to 
arrange her flowers. 

“ Where is Lionel ?” asked Lady Folliott, abruptly. 

“ He has gone into the park in search of wood- 
violets,” answered Beatrix. “ He knows a spot where 
they grow thickly.” 

The baroness studied the girl’s rare and exquisite 
beauty with a growing tenderness for her. She 
believed that Beatrix, even if she loved Sir Lionel with 
all her soul, would refuse to marry him if she, Lady 
Folliott, were to express disapprobation of the alliance. 
She had dropped a hint upon the night of Beatrix’s 
arrival of her hopes for the future of the young baronet. 
She made a sudden resolve now to set the matter before 
her guest in a still clearer light. 

Beatrix, looking up, marked the agitated expression 
upon the face of her hostess. 

“ Are you ill, Lady Folliott ?” she asked, quickly. 
“You look troubled.” 

“ I am troubled, my dear,” said the baroness frankly. 
“ I am greatly troubled.” 

Beatrix looked her sympathy, but remained silent. 
Lady Folliott glanced toward the door of the conserva- 
tory. There was time enough to unburden her mind 
to Beatrix before Sir Lionel could return. Why should 
she not make a covert appeal to the generosity of Bea- 
trix, and so secure the happiness of her niece and the 
success of her own schemes ? 

“ I am troubled about Nerea,” she said, after a brief 
pause. “ My dear, I am afraid I have made a mistake 
which will prove fatal to her happiness — and to mine ! 
She is a dear little trusting creature, made to be petted 
and loved. She is not strong and resolute like you, 
Beatrix. “ I have been very unwise, I fear.” 


228 


Beatrix Rohan. 


“ How so, dear Lady Folliott ?” asked Beatrix, gently, 
seeing that the baroness expected her to speak. 

“ My dear, I am reposing a great confidence in you, 
but I must answer your question. I trust my secret — 
and Nerea's — to your honor. It has been for years my 
hope to see Lionel and Nerea husband and wife. I 
have explained this to both of them. I have told both 
of them that in the event of their marriage my property 
should go to them at my death. If either of them 
declines the alliance, the one who so declines shall not 
have one penny of my property. Lionel is poor — his 
estates being heavily encumbered. I know that he is 
interested in Nerea — that she could win his love !” 

“ You think so ?” said Beatrix, in a low tone, drooping 
her face over her flowers. 

“ I am sure of it. And now I must tell you why I am 
troubled. I have praised Lionel to Nerea so much, 
have told her so often of my hopes, that she — she is 
interested in him ! If he should marry another,” said 
Lady Folliott, and her face grew more than ever anx- 
ious, “ I am convinced that Nerea would die !” 

Beatrix was silent. 

“ I know that Lionel esteems you very highly, 
Beatrix,” said the baroness, after a short silence. “The 
object of my communication to you is this. You will 
hold my confidence sacred, I know, and I ask you as a 
favor to use your influence with Lionel in a way to 
favor the interests of my poor niece. If the opportun- 
ity should ever arise, I beg you to advise him in such a 
manner that he will accede to my wishes and marry 
my poor Nerea, who loves him ?” 

Beatrix understood. Lady Folliott was not skilled in 
dissimulation. She could not hide her real meaning, 
even under indirect modes of expression. 


The Resit It of the Treachery. 


229 


It was some minutes before Beatrix could answer. 
She did not look up then when she said : 

“ I shall hold your confidence sacred, Lady Folliott. 
If — if an occasion ever arises when I can comply with 
your request, I will do so !” 

The baroness bent over the girl and kissed her. 

“God bless you, my dear child !” she said, with deep 
feeling. “ I love you next to Lion and Nerea. You 
have made me very happy, Beatrix. Sometimes I fear 
that Nerea would die of a great disappointment ; she is 
too tender and clinging and delicate. I trust you, 
Beatrix.” 

The girl’s heart swelled with a great and terrible 
pain. 

She longed to be alone, if but for a moment. She 
feared lest she should lose her self-command under the 
very next address of Lady Folliott. 

“ I — I must get more flowers,” she faltered, and sprang 
up, hastening to the conservatory. 

Both the baroness and Beatrix had been too much 
absorbed in their conversation to heed the sound of 
wheels on the moat-bridge and the carriage-drive. 
Neither of them were conscious of the sounds of an 
arrival. But Beatrix had barely entered the conserva- 
tory, halting just within its wide portal, when the draw- 
ing-room door was opened and a servant ushered in a 
visitor, announcing in a loud voice : 

“ Colonel Brand !” 



CHAPTER XXV. 

AGAIN ADRIFT. 

The announcement of the name of Colonel Brand 
reached the ears of Beatrix, as she halted within the 
door of the conservatory. The sound of that detested 
name was enough to drive from her mind all the anxie- 
ties crowding into it — all thought of Lady Folliott, or 
the false Miss Bermyngham, or even of Sir Lionel 
Charlton. 

Colonel Brand here ! at Folliott Court ! 

The hunted girl gasped for breath, and leaned 
heavily against the door-post. And then the clear and 
silvery tones of Colonel Brand’s voice, sleek and persua- 
sive, penetrated to her concealment. 

She comprehended that he was introducing himself 
to Lady Folliott ; that the baroness was responding to 
him coldly and haughtily ; and, then, he was entering 
upon the subject of his visit. 

He had traced her to Folliott Court ! He had come 
to take her away from this safe refuge, these kind 
friends ! 

The basket of flowers fell from her grasp. The 
instinct of flight possessed her soul. She looked about 
her with a wild glance. A door opened into the wide 
hall at no great distance from her. The girl sped 
L 2 3°J 


Again Adrift. 


231 


down the green and fragrant aisle, through the door 
and the hall, up the stairs, to her own room. 

Here she sank down in a chair, wild-eyed and pant- 
ing. 

The season was May, but, according to the custom of 
Folliott Court to which allusion has been made, a fire 
burned low and ruddily in the grate. Beatrix was 
strangely chilled. And so almost immediately, she 
arose from her seat near the door and crouched down 
upon the hearth-rug in the warmth of the glow and 
blaze and put out her white and quivering hands 
to the soft heat. 

Her thoughts were all confused. A great terror 
possessed her. The memories of all the horrors she 
had endured from the hour of her escape from her 
prison chamber in the Chateau Valbeck crowded 
thickly into her mind. She looked about her with big, 
affrighted eyes, as if expecting to see her enemy enter 
her very presence. 

But gradually she grew calmer. Her courage and 
self-possession returned to her. Her thoughts became 
cooler, quieter, more self-concentrated. 

“He will not penetrate my chamber,” she said to 
herself. “ I am safe here for the present. But if, as I 
believe, he has power to take me away from this house, 
I shall not be safe here for many hours. I must 
resume my flight again. I must abandon this shelter, 
these friends. Ah, how did he trace me here ?” 

She arose and went into her dressing-room, intent 
upon preparations for her flight. 

Among the articles she had ordered from London 
from Lady Folliott’s dressmaker had been a large and 
well-appointed dressing-bag. Beatrix hastened to pack 
carefully into this a silk dress, and changes of linen of 
every description. The bag was then not too heavy to 


232 


Beatrix Rohan . 


carry, as she readily proved in transporting it into her 
parlor. 

“ I regret now having bought so much clothing,” she 
thought. “ Still, I have three hundred pounds remain- 
ing. I must husband that sum with the greatest care.” 

Her pocket-book was in her trunk. She took it out, 
examined its contents, and, leaving some twenty pounds 
within it, transferred all the remainder to a pocket she 
had sewed in her stays. Then she brought out a cash- 
mere sacque like her costume, a round black straw-hat, 
trimmed with black velvet and daisies, and a shawl and 
gloves. 

She was in the act of putting on her sacque when a 
low knock was heard upon her door, and Lady Folliott’s 
maid entered, bearing a bunch of wood-violets on a 
small silver salver. 

“ With the compliments of Sir Lionel Charlton, Miss 
Clare,” she said, delivering the flowers. “ Sir Lionel 
just came in by the garden entrance, and I told him that 
you had gone up to dress for dinner and my lady had a 
visitor, so he gave these flowers to me to bring up to 
you and went directly to his own room.” 

The woman was rather garrulous in her speech, and 
her busy eyes noted the young lady’s outer wrappings, 
but they did not observe the traveling-bag. With an 
idea that “ Miss Clare ” had been about to take a walk 
upon the terrace and wait there for her flowers, she 
made some remark upon the hour and offered to assist 
Beatrix as usual with her toilet. 

“ Thank you,” said the girl, gently ; “but I shall not 
need your services to-day. You need not come in 
again before dinner.” 

Slipping a sovereign into the woman’s hand, she 
quietly dismissed her. 

Left alone, Beatrix pressed the little bunch of fra- 


Again Adrift . 


233 


grant violets to her lips. A sudden mist of tears 
obscured her eyes. Then she put the flowers in her 
bosom, and murmured : 

“ At least I may keep them, even if he is to marry 
Miss Bermyngham. I shall never see him again — 
never !” 

And in these words she renounced all her secret 
dreams of love and happiness, and took up again her life 
of flight and desolation. 

She was still standing pale and calm and strangely 
resolute, before the hearth, when a tapping was again 
heard upon her door, and Lady Folliott entered. 

Her ladyship was flushed and agitated ; an angry 
sparkle burned in her blue eyes ; her countenance 
expressed an anxious determination. As she beheld 
Beatrix, her face softened into an expression of tender- 
ness and affectionate sympathy. 

Her gaze took in upon the instant the preparations 
Beatrix had made for departure. 

“ My dear child !” she exclaimed. “ What are you 
doing ? You surely were not going away without my 
knowledge ?” 

“ Oh no,” replied Beatrix, with a strange weariness of 
voice and face. “ I meant to send you a message at the 
very last moment. I did indeed, dear Lady Folliott. I 
could not go away without thanking you for all your 
goodness to me.” 

“ And not without seeing me and Nerea also, I hope, 
Beatrix,” said the baroness. “ Poor Nerea ! she loves 
you dearly ; I dread the effect your loss will have upon 
her. She never had a sister, and I had hoped that you 
two would be as sisters to each other. She does not 
know of Colonel Brand’s presence in the house, nor does 
Lion. And now tell me dear, where were you thinking 
of going ?” 


234 


Beati'ix Rohan. 


“ I had not thought,” replied the girl, desolately. “ I 
am no longer safe here. I must go somewhere, but 
where I do not yet know. Is he — is Colonel Brand still 
in this house ? ’ 

“ Yes, dear,” said Lady Folliott, gravely. “ He 
refuses to go away without you.” 

Beatrix did not tremble now, but the whiteness of her 
lovely young face, the desperate expression in her dark- 
gray eyes, touched Lady Folliott to the soul. 

“ Sit here on the sofa with me, Beatrix,” said the lady, 
leading the girl to a low silken couch. “ Colonel Brand 
is in the drawing-room below, as fierce as an unchained 
tiger, even though he seems as bland as a summer 
morning. But you are safe within this room. He would 
not dare penetrate to the private chambers of this 
house. He will stay he declares, until you come down 
to him.” 

“ I will not see him J” cried Beatrix, her passionate 
young voice all a-quiver. “ Oh, Lady Folliott, do not 
let him talk you over to his side as he persuaded Mr. 
Hillsley. He seems good and kind and honest, but he 
is base, wicked and treacherous. Think how he has 
persecuted me ! how he shut me up in a prison-room 
at the Chateau Valbeck ! Think of the hideous fate he 
has in store for me ! Oh, do not give me up to him ? 
Let me escape — now — while there is time !” 

She sprang up, but Lady Folliott held her close in a 
firm yet gentle clasp. 

“ Beatrix, do you think I could betray you ?” cried 
the baroness. “ My dear child, listen to me. Be calm, 
dear. Do you think that Colonel Brand’s specious 
seeming could deceive me ? I believe him to be all 
that you have said, hypocritical, cruel, wicked and des- 
perate. I would as soon give you up to a ravening 
wolf as to that man !” 


Again Adrift. 


235 


Beatrix seized the hand of Lady Folliott and covered 
it with kisses. 

“But,” continued the baroness, touched by this out- 
burst of gratitude, “ I must not hide from you, dear 
Beatrix, my inability to protect you from him. He is 
your legal guardian. He is armed with a warrant for 
your arrest as a person of unsound mind, and as a 
minor who has fled from her rightful guardians. He 
has a policeman in waiting outside the door — ” 

Beatrix started ; her face grew deathlier in its 
pallor. 

“ A warrant for my arrest ? A policeman ?” she 
whispered. 

“ Yes, Beatrix, the power is in his hands, and he does 
not scruple to use it. I have implored him in vain. 
He will not hearken to my entreaties. I cannot keep 
you here and bid defiance to him. The law is on his 
side.” 

“ But could you not keep me here while you make 
application in my behalf to the orphans’ court ?” asked 
Beatrix, desperately. “ Can you not also invoke the 
law ?” 

“ My dear child, I have not power to keep you over 
night under my roof. And before I could invoke the 
aid of the law to your rescue, Colonel Brand would have 
removed you out of the country.” 

“Then you refuse to aid me ? You give me up ?” 

“ By no means. Beatrix, can you ask me that ? I am 
persuaded that, in a recourse to law, Colonel Brand 
would have the advantage of us. He is your legal 
guardian, the husband of your father’s sister, and has 
the reputation of being an honorable gentleman. He 
says that his wife is heartbroken upon your account. 
His manner and words would delude any judge or jury 
into believing him the noblest of God’s creatures, and 


3 6 


Beatrix Rohan. 


you a rebellious, wayward, half-demented girl. And 
that is not all," continued Lady Folliott, her face flush- 
ing yet more deeply. “ It seems that he has made 
inquiries about you at Folliott Fens, and he professes 
to think that Sir Lionel Charlton is your lover. I 
explained to him in vain my views in regard to Lion 
and Nerea. He continued in his belief that you and 
Lion are lovers, and he professed to regard your stay in 
the same house with Sir Lionel as indelicate. In short, 
my dear Beatrix, Colonel Brand has the power to take 
you away, and an open resistance to his authority will 
not result in your deliverance, but in a very unpleasant 
scandal." 

“ But you have said that you will not give me up to 
him !" cried the girl, anxiously. 

“ True. I will not. Yet, I cannot resist his demands. 
I cannot fight him openly. A recourse to the law would 
cause a delay that might prove fatal. Since, then, we 
cannot resort to open war, cannot make a bold resist- 
ance to him, we must try evasion. I dare not summon 
Sir Lionel to share in our councils, lest he do something 
hot-headed and rash, that shall provoke the scandal I 
desire to avoid. I am obliged, therefore, to rely upon 
my own judgment. You must leave the Court imme- 
diately, Beatrix !" 

The girl arose, calm and resolute. 

“ I am ready," she said, briefly. 

“ I formed my plans while I was listening to Colonel 
Brand," said Lady Folliott. “ Upon leaving the drawing- 
room, my first movement was to learn if he had really 
a policeman in waiting, as he had said. It was true 
The man is pacing the terrace, with his eyes fixed upon 
the front door. If you were to decide to accompany 
Colonel Brand peacefully, this policeman would not be 
called in. He will be summoned only in case of your 


Again Adrift . 


237 


and our resistance. But there the man is near the 
carriage-porch, and it has not seemed to occur to him, 
or to Colonel Brand, that this house has other means of 
exit. Having assured myself that the policeman is 
really there, I went to the dining-room and transmitted 
an order through the butler to have a carriage made 
ready in all secresy and haste. It must be waiting 
now. Then I went up to my rooms and ordered Talcut, 
my maid, to prepare for a journey. She is doubtless 
ready by this time. Your boxes shall be sent after you, 
my dear, as soon as they can be sent safety. Talcut 
will not leave you until you are in safety. Have you 
messages to leave for Nerea and Lion ? I will tell them 
the reason of your hasty departure. I trust the year of 
your minority will pass swiftly, and that when you are 
safely delivered from all you troubles you will return 
to Folliott Court as to your home.” 

Lady Folliott also arose now, and took both the girl’s 
hands in her own. 

“ I thank you,” answered Beatrix, simply. “ You are 
very good, and I am very grateful. I beg that you will 
make my adieux to Miss Bermyngham and Sir Lionel 
Charlton.” 

“ You have not asked where you are going, my dear,” 
said Lady Folliott, trying to smile. “ You have told me 
how friendless you are, and I shall venture to send you 
to a friend of my own, whose name is the first to occur 
to me in this emergency. She will treat you very 
kindly, and will watch over you as I would do. I 
think you would be safer with her than anywhere else 
in England. She is an elderly maiden lady, of limited 
income, somewhat eccentric, and leads a lonely life, 
with only two servants to look after her. She will be 
grateful for your companionship, and I think you will 
be happy with her.” 


238 


Beatrix Rohan. 


“ I shall be happy anywhere where I will be safe !" 

“You will be safe with her, my dear. Talcut will 
tell you all about her as you travel. I have only time 
to say that you may trust my friend implicitly. She is 
a very distant relative of my own, a Scotchwoman by 
birth, but English by education, and she lives in Dur- 
ham. Her name is Miss McTavish — Octavia McTavish. 
Talcut will take all possible precautions, so that Colonel 
Brand will not be able to trace you to her house. Will 
you go to Miss McTavish, my dear ? I can promise you 
a hearty welcome from her !’’ 

Beatrix had had some indistinct idea of seeking a 
refuge in Wales, having still in her possession that let- 
ter of recommendation to Mr. Trevor which had been 
given her by her traveling-companion, Mrs. Trevor ; 
but she gladly acceded to the plan proposed by Lady 
Folliott. 

“ It is settled, then," said the baroness. “ That is 
Tal cut’s step in the hall. It is time for you to go. 
Trust my maid fully, my dear. Let her manage every- 
thing for you. I have given her special instructions. 
Write to me often. And now good-by. God bless you 
and keep you, my dear child, and restore you safely to 
us !" 

She embraced the girl with a mother’s tenderness, 
gave some further counsel, and then opened the door 
leading into the hall. Talcut, the maid, an elderly, 
prim-looking woman, in traveling costume, was waiting- 
outside. 

“ Is the way clear ?’’ asked Lady Folliott. 

“ Yes, my lady,” replied Talcut, in a whisper. “ The 
gentleman below just sent up a message by the hall- 
porter bidding the young lady to hurry. I told James 
that I would deliver the message. James says that the 


Again Adrift . 


239 


gentleman is walking the floor, and growing savager 
with every moment. He’s been to the door— the gentle- 
man has — to talk with his policeman !” 

“ There is no time to lose!” said Lady Folliott. 
“ Come, Beatrix. We will go down to the carriage !” 

She led the way almost silently across the great hall 
and nearly down its length, and then turned into a 
narrower corridor at right angles with it, Beatrix fol- 
lowing, and Mrs. Talcut bringing up the rear with the 
young lady’s dressing-bag and her own hand-bag. 

The corridor opened into another hall parallel with 
the first, and a staircase led from this to a similar hall 
upon the lower floor. Lady Folliott hurried swiftly, 
gaining a door looking out upon the rear gardens. 
Thence she made her way to the stables, closely fol- 
lowed by the fugitive heiress and the maid. 

The carriage was in readiness in the stable-yard. 
The coachman was upon the box, and a stableman stood 
at the carriage-door. 

The baroness bestowed a final embrace upon Beatrix, 
who climbed into the vehicle. The maid followed. 

Drive out at the back of the stable-yard,” said Lady 
Folliott, in a low voice, addressing the coachman, “ and 
over the back bridge of the moat. Take a circuitous 
route through the park, and drive carefully so as not to 
be heard from the house. You are not to go to Spald- 
ing, but to Bourn !” 

The coachman signified that he understood, and 
touched up his horses, driving slowly out of the stable- 
yard by a rear-route. 

Lady Folliott returned to the garden-door of the 
house, and, waiting there for a few minutes, listened 
intently. 

She could barely hear the sound of the carriage- 
wheels on the moat-bridge. She waited until she was 


240 


Beatrix Rohan . 


quite sure that the carriage had entered the park, and 
then she returned to her own rooms. 

She had scarcely entered them when a servant brought 
her an urgent written message from Colonel Brand, 
stating that he must see her and Miss Rohan without 
further delay. 

Lady Folliott was holding the card in her hand, when 
Sir Lionel Charlton entered her presence. 

“ What is this I hear, Aunt Folliott ?” he asked. 
“ My valet tells me that there is a person below who 
has come for Miss Rohan — ” 

“ It is Colonel Brand,” replied the baroness, calmly. 
“ He is armed with a warrant, Lion, and we cannot 
resist him. Hush, my dear boy, Beatrix is safe. Do 
you think I would give her up to her enemies ? She is 
gone !” 

And in a few words she told him of Beatrix’s flight 
and destination. 

“We must gain a little time,” concluded Lady Folli- 
ott. “ I shall detain Colonel Brand as long as possible. 
You must not see him, Lion. There must be no scene, 
no cause for scandal. Remain with Nerea in the 
library, and trust me to manage Beatrix’s enemy !” 

And with a calm smile on her handsome face, Lady 
Folliott slowly returned to the drawing-room and to 
her dangerous guest ! 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

“ANN JONES" AGAIN. 

Colonel Brand was walking to and fro the great 
drawing-room with quick, impetuous strides, and with 
a look of gathering suspicion darkening his face. He 
paused as the baroness entered and looked sharply 
beyond her, as if he expected to behold Beatrix. 

“ I must apologize for detaining you so long, sir,” 
said Lady Folliott, with an icy politeness. “Pray 
resume your seat.” 

She swept towards the hearth as she spoke. 

“ Where is my niece — my ward ?” demanded Colonel 
Brand, sharply, a sullen spark glowing in his small, 
black eyes. “ Have you informed Beatrix that I am 
here, madam ?” 

“ I have so informed her,” replied the baroness, 
haughtily. “ I told her also that you are armed with a 
warrant for her arrest, and that you have a policeman 
waiting outside to take her into custody if she defies 
your authority.” 

Colonel Brand’s thin, dark face lighted up with sud- 
den satisfaction ; his long, thin nose worked convulsively 
up and down, and he said, with a sinister delight 
expressed in every feature : 

“ I see that you understand me, madam. I am glad 

_ [241] 


242 


Beatrix Rohan . 


you stated the case so plainly to my niece. I suppose 
she was greatly terrified — that she realized her help- 
lessness — that she saw that her safety lay in complete 
submission to her relatives and guardians ? Poor, 
unhappy, demented girl !” he added, sighing profoundly. 
“ If you knew, Lady Folliott, the anxiety she has 
caused us — the sleepless nights she has given us — your 
heart would bleed for us. She is our niece. My wife 
has been more than a mother to her — yet how has she 
rewarded us !” 

“ But you say that she is demented,” said Lady Fol- 
liott, drily. “ One should not expect much of a demented 
person.” 

Colonel Brand shot a keen glance at the calm, impas- 
sive face of the baroness. Her blue eyes were regard- 
ing him with a cool and haughty gaze. A sudden 
uneasiness took possession of him. 

“ Why does not Beatrix make her appearance ?” he 
demanded abruptly. 

“ I informed her of your intention of taking her away 
with you this very night,” said the baroness, calmly. 
I told her that you had a fly in waiting for her removal. 
You cannot expect that she will hasten down to you. 
You must have a little patience, sir. You must wait a 
little longer.” 

Colonel Brand turned on his heel and walked to one of 
the windows. Parting the curtains with his hand, he 
looked out. His ally, the policeman, was pacing the 
terrace slowly in the gathering gloom, and keeping a 
vigilant watch upon the mansion and the draw-bridge. 
Colonel Brand smiled and returned to Lady Folliott, 
who remained standing before the hearth. 

“ I had a momentary misgiving,” he said, “ but I see 
that it was the merest folly. I am not pleased with 
this detention, madam. Why am I obliged to wait so 


“ Ann J o?ies ’ ’ Again. 


243 


long for the appearance of my niece ? Is she at this 
moment indulging in aft interview with her new lover, 
Sir Lionel Charlton ?” 

Lady Folliott’s face flushed, but she answered 
calmly : 

“ Miss Rohan is not with my nephew, sir. She has 
not seen him since you came ; she will not see him this 
evening.” 

“ Then she will never see him again,” said Colonel 
Brand, resuming his pacing to and fro, while the baron- 
ess sank gracefully into an arm-chair. “ That girl has 
caused me a world of trouble, madam. When my 
brother-in-law in dying begged me to be a father to his 
child, I little thought how onerous the charge would 
prove. Rebellious, willful, wayward and headstrong, 
she has caused me to feel the truth of that hack- 
neyed quotation from Shakespeare : , ‘ How sharper 
than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless 
child !’ ” 

Lady Folliott had drawn a little work-table to her side, 
and in the light of the two wax candles upon it had 
begun to busy herself with a piece of gay woolen 
embroidery. She looked up now from her work, say- 
ing quietly : 

“But you say that her mind is unbalanced, sir. All 
things are pardoned in the insane, you know. If Miss 
Rohan is demented, as you affirm, she is certainly not 
to blame for her waywardness. She is to be pitied 
rather than blamed.” 

Colonel Brand bit his lips and continued his hurried 
walk to and fro. Lady Folliott calmly stitched at her 
embroidery. A long silence succeeded, during which 
Beatrix’s enemy often paused to listen for the sounds of 
her approach. 

The baroness’s thoughts went out after the young 


244 


Beatrix Rohan % 


fugitive heiress, who was, with every instant, increasing 
the distance between herself and her pursuers. 

“ Beatrix has so much the start," said Lady Folliott to 
herself, with a glance at the pretty Sevres clock, “that 
I need not detain Colonel Brand longer. She has been 
gone over an hour. Talcut is very shrewd, and I have 
given her permission to use her own judgment in con- 
ducting this flight, and to change the plan of travel I 
had formed for any better one which she and Beatrix 
might decide upon. If they find themselves pursued 
they can alter their course, can travel by post-chaise, 
can spend a w'eek in their journey to Durham. I can 
trust Talcut. Beatrix is absolutely safe with her, so I 
may as well dismiss Colonel Brand." 

She looked up, meeting her visitor’s gaze fixed full 
upon her. Colonel Brand was about to speak, but he 
refrained, as the butler entered and announced that 
dinner waited. 

The baroness arose, putting aside her work. 

“ I must beg you to excuse me, sir," she said, coolly. 

Colonel Brand flushed hotly, and his eyes burned with 
ill-suppressed fury. 

“ Certainly, madam," he said, hoarsely; “but I must see 
my niece at once. If she does not come to me within five 
minutes, I shall be compelled to summon my ally and 
seek her room. You understand ?" 

“ I am sure that you can have no authority to search 
my house," said Lady Folliott, calmly, “ and I shall cer- 
tainly resist any such attempt upon your part. I am 
tempted to summon my servants and have yon put out 
of doors. Were it not for the scandal such action might 
provoke, I should have done so before this." 

“ Ah, yes. It was well that you had a timely regard 
for yourself and your family," sneered Colonel Brand. 


“ A nn J ones ' ’ Again . 


M5 


“ I am impatient to depart. How soon will my niece 
make her appearance in this room ?” 

“ Well,” said the baroness, quietly, “ I should say in 
about ofie year !” 

Colonel Brand started back in amazement. 

il Madam !” he ejaculated. “ What do you mean ?” 

“ I mean,” said the lady, blandly, “ that Miss Rohan 
will not consider herself safe here during her minority, 
and that, therefore, she will not return until she is 
become her own mistress.” 

“ Return ! She is gone, then ?” 

“Certainly, sir. Did you suppose that she would 
remain here to be marched away under the convoy of a 
policeman ?” 

Colonel Brand gave utterance to a fearful oath. His 
face grew startlingly white and haggard. His long 
nose worked with a fiercer convulsiveness. The baron- 
ess recoiled before the frightful malignancy of his stare. 

“Am I to understand,” he asked, “that Beatrix has 
fled from your house since I came into it ?” 

“ Such is the case, sir. Did you suppose I would give 
her up to you, whatever your claims ? I was not able 
to defy your authority ; I shrank from creating a scene ; 
therefore, I sent Miss Rohan away secretly to a place 
of absolute security,” said Lady Folliott pleasantly. 
“She had departed before I returned to you. I have 
detained you more than an hour, but she is safe now 
and I need not detain you longer. Permit me to wish 
you a good-evening.” 

Colonel Brand poured forth a volley of oaths horrify- 
ing to hear. Lady Folliott moved haughtily towards the 
door. 

“ One word, madam,” cried the visitor, following her. 
“ You have outwitted me for the time being, but I 
advise you not to count too much upon the safety of 


246 


Beatrix Rohan. 


Beatrix. I swear to discover her in time for my pur- 
poses, and that your treatment of me shall be amply 
revenged upon her !” 

Colonel Brand caught up his hat, drew it down over 
his forehead, rushed past the baroness, and dashed 
through the hall and out of doors. 

Lady Folliott, with a smile, took her way to the din- 
ing-room, where Sir Lionel Charlton awaited her. 

Colonel Brand could not for an instant doubt that the 
baroness had told him the truth — that Beatrix had 
departed for a place of safety. Wild with rage, he sped 
down the terrace, joining his ally, who was slowly 
walking back and forth, quietly smoking a pipe. 

“ What’s up, Colonel ?” inquired the policeman, 
astonished at the impetuous appearance of his employer. 
“ Does the young lady resist ? Am I to take her into 
custody ?” 

He emptied his pipe of its contents while speaking 
and was ready for action. 

“ She’s gone !” fairly shouted Brand, prefacing his 
declaration with maledictions. “ Gone, do you hear ? 
Escaped ! Fled ! A pretty watch you’ve kept ! She 
has escaped before your very eyes !” 

“ Impossible ! I have watched the grounds and the 
bridge with the eyes of a hawk. She’s in the house, 
Colonel. They are trying to get rid of you — ” 

“ That’s all you know of people like Lady Folliott. 
It is impossible that she should lie. I don’t believe she 
would lie to save her life !” cried Colonel Brand. “ She’s 
one of your high-bred, proud, punctilious people, who 
look upon a lie as degrading. Besides, I read her very 
soul in her eyes. She said that she had sent my niece 
away, and I believe her.” 

“ If she sent the young lady away, she did not send 
her on foot and alone, Colonel,” said the officer, 


astutely. “ There must be other bridges over the moat. 
We had better visit the stables and discover what is 
known there.” 

The two men hurried around the mansion, through 
the shrubberies and gardens, to the stables. 

In the stable-yard they found two or three men busily 
employed. Accosting one of them, and drawing him 
aside, Colonel Brand exhibited to him a sovereign, and 
said : 

“ Here, my good fellow, this is to be yours if you 
answer a few questions : Are all your horses and car- 
riages in the stable ?” 

“ My lady won’t like me to talk to strangers,” said 
the man, eyeing the gold piece greedily, yet keeping a 
rein upon his tongue. 

“You had better answer,” said the officer, admonish- 
ingly. “ I am a policeman. We are armed with a war- 
rant. If you tell all you know, this gentleman will give 
you the sovereign he’s holding up to you. If you refuse 
to tell, you refuse at your peril !” 

This address reduced the hostler to terms. 

“ I’ll tell all I know,” he said, in a low voice, looking 
askance at his fellow-stablemen. “ It isn’t much, the 
Lord knows. The pair of blacks and the close carriage 
are gone — have been gone near two hours !” 

“ And who went with them ?” asked Colonel Brand. 

“ Martin drove,” said the fellow sullenly. “ My lady’s 
maid, Talcut, and my lady’s guest, Miss Clare, went 
inside. My lady come out to the stable-yard to see 
them off.” 

“ Which way did they go ?” 

“ Across the bridge yonder through the park.” 

“ And where were they going ? Do you know their 
intended destination ?” 

“Yes, sir. They were going to Spalding to catch the 


248 


Beatrix Rohan . 


first train,” said the man, deliberately lying, justifying 
himself in his own mind with the thought that he didn’t 
intend to lose a good place, or risk offending a kind 
and liberal mistress for the sake of two unknown 
persons. 

“ And they have been gone two hours !” cried Colonel 
Brand. “ They are on their way in the railway train. 
Did you overhear anything about their final destina- 
tion, fellow ?” 

“No, sir — not a word !” 

Colonel Brand flung the sovereign upon the ground 
and turned away abruptly, followed by his ally. They 
hurried around to the carriage-porch of the mansion in 
a dead silence. Their fly was in waiting for them ; the 
driver on the box. Colonel Brand sprang into the 
vehicle, the policeman following, and gave the order 
sternly and tersely : 

“To Spalding! And don’t spare the horses! We 
must make the distance in an hour !” 

The vehicle rolled rapidly down the drive, crossed the 
draw-bridge, and passed out at the lodge-gates. 

The highway bordered the Folliott Park for some dis- 
tance. As the fly came abreast a small gate in the park 
palings, Colonel Brand saw that the gate was open, and 
that a small girlish figure, wrapped closely in long 
waterproof cloak and hood, was standing by it in the 
shadows. 

Even as he saw her she sprang forward, stopped the 
vehicle by a peremptory gesture to the driver, and 
approached the carriage-door. 

“ Which is Colonel Brand ?” she asked, in a tremulous 
yet silvery voice. 

Colonel Brand answered by leaning out at the open 
window and proclaiming his identity. 


249 


“ Ann Jones" Again. 


“ Here is a letter for you,” said the woman, handing 
up a sealed envelope. 

Colonel Brand noticed that her hand was white and 
plentifully adorned with jewels. He took the letter 
mechanically, and she turned and hurried into the park, 
a rustling of silken drapery attending her movements. 
Colonel Brand heard the park-gate close and the bolt 
shoot into the lock. 

“ Here’s a mystery,” he said. “ I wish I could have 
seen her face. She is a lady evidently, and not a ser- 
vant. Is this a parting message from Lady Folliott ? 
Let me see !” 

The lamps outside the vehicle had been lighted, but 
their faint illumination did not serve the occupants of 
the interior. 

Colonel Brand drew from his pocket a box of wax 
vestas, lighted one, tore open the letter, and read as fol- 
lows : 

“ Deer Sur : Miss Rohan has gon, but i shal find 
meens to lett you no whare she is as soon as i find out 
miself. Look for a leter from me at the same address 
as before in a da or to. i shall bee sure to rite. 

“ Ann Jones.” 

There was an odd and sinister smile upon Colonel 
Brand's countenance as he folded this missive and put 
it in his pocket. 

“ I understand !” he said to himself. “ 1 Ann Jones ’ 
is the nom-de-plume of some enemy of Beatrix. The 
unique spelling, and the common name appended, are a 
clever device to cover the identity of the writer. And 
that writer is a lady who desired to keep herself well 
concealed. She hates Beatrix with a deadly enmity. I 
shall hear from her again. But I shall not wait for her 


250 


Beatrix Rohan. 


to spy out Beatrix’s whereabouts. I shall search for 
myself. But with a traitor in Lady Folliott’s own 
household, and with a sleuth-hound like me upon her 
track, Beatrix will not long escape me.” 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

MISS MCTAVISH. 

The carriage containing the fugitive Beatrix and 
Lady Folliott’s maid, Mrs. Talcut, proceeded at a rapid 
rate of speed through Folliott Park and turned into the 
highway at its further side. It was not yet dusk, but 
the long English twilight was slowly gathering over 
the landscape. The road was lonely and shut in by 
tall hedges. For miles no house was visible by the 
roadside, and they met no traveler or laborer. 

Beatrix, with her face pressed against the window at 
the back of the carriage, watched with burning eyes 
for some glimpse of pursuers until the deepening shad- 
ows interposed like a vail, and made even near objects 
indistinct. Then, with a growing sense of security and 
increasing hope and courage, she drew down the silken 
curtain and nestled comfortably among the carriage 
cushions. 

“ There is nothing now to fear, Miss Clare,” said Mrs. 
Talcut, who occupied the opposite seat, with her back 
to the horses. “ My lady will keep your guardian at 
the Court as long as possible. I dare say we shall be at 
Bourne and seated in a railway-coach before Colonel 
Brand even learns that you have given him the slip. 
My lady is clever. You can safely trust everything to 
her.” 


Miss McTavish. 


25 1 


It was a long- drive to Bourne, and a good portion of 
it lay upon rude and narrow roads beside open drains, 
through the dreary level fens. No fences or hedges 
hemmed in these roads, and they seemed not wide 
enough for two vehicles abreast. The coachman 
lighted his carriage-lamps, and kept a vigilant lookout 
upon both sides of the narrow way. Beatrix looked out 
now and then, seeing spectral -looking windmills in the 
distance, and occasionally a shadowy farm-house with 
its range of outbuildings. 

“It is a dreary outlook, Miss Clare,” remarked the 
maid, in her subdued, respectful voice. “ A little care- 
lessness on the part of our coachman might overset the 
carriage into one of those ditches and cost us our lives. 
But Martin is a safe driver. He’ll get us to Bourne in 
safety. He is never careless. How pale you are, Miss ! 
My lady had a hamper of provisions put into the car- 
riage, knowing that it was near dinner-time and you 
would need food, and knowing, too, that you would not 
have time to dine at Bourne. We hope to catch a mail, 
whether down or up makes little difference. Let me 
open the hamper, Miss.” 

Taking permission for granted, and being prompted, 
without doubt, by the cravings of her own appetite, Mrs. 
Talcut drew from beneath the seat she occupied, a 
small square hamper. Upon being opened, the hamper 
was found to contain a cold fowl, sandwiches, freshly- 
plucked hot-house grapes, and a bottle of port wine. 

“ The housekeeper packed the hamper herself, and in 
no time at all, as you may say,” remarked Talcut, pro- 
ducing napkin, plate, knife, fork, and glass goblet. 
“ Let me serve you, Miss. You must eat to keep up 
your strength, you know. We’ve a long journey before 
us, and you will need all your strength.” 

Thus adjured, Beatrix eat her supper, and afterward, 


252 


Beatrix Rohan . 


at her request. Mrs. Talcut consumed a large portion of 
what remained. 

When the hamper, with the fragments of the feast, 
had been stowed away again under the seat, Beatrix 
resumed her lounging position among the cushions, 
and was very thoughtful and silent throughout the 
remainder of the drive. 

They arrived at Bourne safely, and drew up before 
the railway station soon after eight o’clock. The car- 
riage set out immediately upon its return to Folliott 
Court. Beatrix and her attendant entered the station, 
Miss Rohan taking care to vail her face. Talcut 
hastened to the booking-office. 

“ Miss Clare,” she whispered, returning to her young 
charge, “ the up-train has been gone half-an-hour. The 
down-train is due in ten minutes. If we intend to go 
by the up-mail we shall have to wait until morning, and 
then we may be overtaken, you know. What shall we 
do ?” 

“ The down-train is the London mail, I suppose,” said 
Beatrix. “ I shall feel safer to be going in some direc- 
tion. I cannot remain at Bourne until morning. I 
should tremble at every sound. Procure tickets for 
London, Mrs. Talcut, and let us take the down-train.” 

The servant- woman obeyed, procuring tickets as 
desired. 

Fifteen minutes later, the fugitive heiress and Mrs. 
Talcut were speeding toward London in the night- 
mail. 

They had a first-class compartment to themselves, 
and Beatrix threw back her vail with a sigh of relief, 
and stared out of the windows into the darkening night 
with great, solemn, desolate eyes, whose expression 
half-frightened her companion. 

“ You are very tired, Miss Clare,” said Mrs. Talcut, 


Miss McTavish. 


253 


compassionately. “All this excitement has been too 
much for you. I’ve been thinking it would be foolish 
for us to go on to London. Colonel Brand will tele- 
graph to the London terminus, of course, on the mere 
suspicion that we will go to London.” 

Beatrix turned her gaze upon her attendant. 

“ That idea had already occurred to me,” said the 
girl. “ But what are we to do ?” 

“ Our route to London is by way of Stamford, Peter- 
borough, and Huntingdon,” said Mrs. Talcut, thought- 
fully. “We must step off at one of those places. Not at 
Stamford — that is too near. But at Peterborough, I 
should say. I have an acquaintance at Peterborough. 
In fact, my own cousin keeps a lodging-house there and 
would gladly take us in for the night. In the morning 
we can take all possible precaution and resume our 
journey to Durham.” 

This plan commended itself to Beatrix and she has- 
tened to assent to it. 

“ If we had caught the up-mail,” said Mrs. Talcut, 
“ we should have taken it, and Colonel Brand might 
perhaps have traced us easily to our destination. But 
chance has favored us more than we could have favored 
ou. selves. I am very sure that he will never trace this 
night’s wanderings.” 

At Stamford an elderly gentleman was ushered into 
their compartment, despite Mrs. Talcut’s remonstrances 
with the guard, and her whispered offer to the function- 
ary of a shilling if the elderly gentleman could be 
bestowed elsewhere. 

“ Impossible, ma'am,” the guard answered, regretfully. 
“ The gentleman’s only going to Peterborough. The 
train is unusually full and we are obliged to put him in 
with you. It will be a short run through, ma’am, and 
then you’ll be left to yourself.” 


254 


Beatrix Rohan . 


The journey to Peterborough was performed by Bea- 
trix in a dead silence. She kept her face vailed, and 
nestled in her corner seeming asleep. The elderly 
gentleman looked from the opposite window. He was 
somewhat infirm, and completely occupied with himself, 
and scarcely bestowed a glance upon his fellow-travel- 
ers. 

As the train steamed into the Peterborough station, 
the elderly gentleman became eager and impatient, and 
the coach had scarcely come to a stop when he pro- 
duced a key, unlocked the coach-door and slipped out 
upon the platform. 

“What a lucky chance !” cried Mrs. Talcut, snatch- 
ing up the traveling-bags. “ That is a blessed custom 
the gentlemen have got into of carrying their own keys 
to railway carriages. Come, Miss Clare. Let us get 
away before the guard comes. 1 ' 

Beatrix followed her attendant, descending to the 
platform, and hurrying away into the shadows. 

“We don’t want a cab,” said Mrs. Talcut. “My 
cousin lives very near. It’s not three minutes’ walk.” 

This information proved strictly accurate. A brisk 
walk of three minutes brought them to a quiet brick 
house in a quiet respectable-looking street. It was but 
little after ten o’clock, and a light was burning in the 
little parlor overlooking the street. Mrs. Talcut 
knocked loudly and peremptorily. 

It was her cousin herself — a large, red-faced, good- 
natured looking woman — who opened the door and gave 
them admittance. 

Mrs. Tal cut’s story was soon told, and she, with her 
fugitive charge, were made heartily welcome. 

Certain temporary vacancies fortunately existing in 
the lodging-house, a pleasant front chamber was 


Miss McTavish. 


255 


assigned to Miss Rohan, and a smaller room adjoining 
was placed at the disposal of her attendant. 

A light hot supper was prepared for the travelers, 
and soon after eleven o’clock Beatrix retired to her 
room and to bed. 

When she awakened in the morning, Mrs. Talcut was 
in her room, and in readiness to assist at her toilet. 
When this had been completed they descended to the 
little private parlor of their hostess. 

Here a luxurious breakfast was placed before Beatrix, 
who was waited upon by Mrs. Talcut. 

“ I had my breakfast an hour ago,” said Lady Folliott’s 
maid. “ You were sleeping so soundly, Miss Clare, that 
I would not arouse you at your usual hour. You look 
refreshed by your long sleep.” 

“ I am thoroughly rested, thank you, Talcut,” said 
Beatrix, smiling. “ I am anxious to resume our journey. 
What train are we to take ?” 

“ I think we ought not to go by train, Miss,” replied 
Mrs. Talcut. “ My cousin’s son is in the livery business, 
and he says he will drive us in a close carriage to Oak- 
ham, arriving there in time to catch a train for Leices- 
ter. We can then go on to Durham by a roundabout 
course. Will this be agreeable to you ?” 

“ Perfectly. I am quite sure that Colonel Brand will 
never be able to trace our wanderings. You are very 
clever, Mrs. Talcut.” 

The serving- woman accepted this compliment with 
becoming modesty, but with visible gratification. 

As soon as Beatrix had concluded her breakfast, a 
close carriage was brought to the door, and the fugitives 
set out for Oakham. 

They arrived at their destination in time to catch a 
parliamentary train to Leicester. Beatrix decided that 
it was better to be traveling, even at a snail’s pace, than 


256 


Beatrix Rohan. 


to remain at Oakham, and Mrs. Talcut agreed with 
her. 

At Leicester they waited an hour for a mail -train, and 
continued their journey, arriving at Leeds at an early 
hour of the evening. 

They proceeded to a quiet out-of-the-way hotel in 
Leeds, which was well known to Mrs. Talcut, and there 
spent the night. 

The next morning they took train for Durham, which 
they reached safely and without incident. 

“ We have reached our journey’s end,” said Mrs. Tal- 
cut, cheerfully, as they emerged from the station. “ A 
little drive will bring us to Bruce Cottage, Miss McTav- 
ish’s place. And then, Miss Clare, you will feel indeed 
safe.” 

Beatrix’s heart sank as they entered the cab and 
drove through the streets of the imposing, picturesque 
city. She had no thoughts for the castle or cathedral, 
for the hanging gardens, or the river Wear. Her mind 
was busy with Miss McTavish, and her probable recep- 
tion. 

“ I wish we had sent on Lady Folliott’s letter direct 
by post,” the girl said suddenly, “ instead of bringing it 
ourselves. It is not pleasant to take Miss McTavish by 
storm.” 

“ Miss McTavish will be glad to see you, whether you 
come announced or unannounced, Miss Clare,” said Mrs. 
Talcut. “ She is my lady’s relation, and under great 
obligations to my lady, to whom she is greatly attached. 
Why, half her income is an annuity which my lady 
bought for her, though I ought not to tell you that. 
Rest assured, Miss Clare, that Miss McTavish will make 
you very welcome.” 

The “ little drive ” which Mrs. Talcut had promised 



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Miss McTavish . 


257 


was lengthened into a journey of fifteen minutes dura- 
tion. 

They traversed various city streets, crossed a bridge, 
and presently struck out in the direction of the open 
country, following the course of the river. 

They pursued the highway for a certain distance, 
until the houses had become few and scattered, and 
then turned into a lonely green lane leading down to 
the river. 

At the bottom of this lane, quite near to the river 
bank, a small brick cottage stood in its own garden, 
embowered in trees. A high brick wall separated its 
domain from the lane. Its grounds sloped to the 
river’s edge, and Beatrix discovered a little later that a 
small wooden pier, a small boat-house, and a boat or 
two, were among the attractions of the river-front. 

The cab halted before a narrow green door in the 
high garden wall, and the cabman alighted and pulled 
the bell. 

“ This is Bruce Cottage,” he said, returning to open 
the door of the vehicle. “ I hear some one coming.” 

Beatrix descended, and Mrs. Talcut followed her. 
As they paused before the garden door, they heard 
steps upon the graveled walk within, and almost 
immediately the sound of the rattling of bolts and 
chains ensued, and the door swung slowly inward. 

An old man, bowed and decrepit, with grizzled hair 
and strongly-marked features — a Scotsman evidently- 
appeared in the opening, and demanded what was 
wanted. 

But even as he asked, in very broad Scotch, he recog- 
nized Mrs. Talcut, and made way for her and her young 
charge. 

The cabman was dismissed ; the old Scotsman took 


Beatrix Rohan . 


258 


possession of the traveling-bags, secured the gate, and 
led the way up the walk to the cottage. 

And now Beatrix noticed the little river-pier, the 
boat-house and the boats. She looked curiously, too, at 
the dwelling and grounds. Since Lady Folliott in- 
tended this place to be her asylum for a whole year, 
she regarded it with keen and lively curiosity. 

The cottage was low and of moderate size, with case- 
ment windows and a quaint vine-draped porch. A 
bow-window opened directly upon a green lawn, in 
which were set great beds of flowers. The entire 
aspect of Bruce Cottage and its surroundings was one 
of refinement and comfort bordering upon luxury. 

Here Miss McTavish lived with two or three old 
attached family servants, in a style befitting a gentle- 
woman of moderate income, of hospitable habits, and 
of luxurious tastes. 

The Scotsman ushered Beatrix and her attendant 
through the porch, through a pretty little tile-paved 
hall, into a small parlor. Here he left them to them- 
selves, while he proceeded to inform his mistress of 
their arrival, taking with him the letter which Lady 
Folliott had addressed to Miss McTavish, commending 
Beatrix to her affectionate care. 

The parlor had a casement window r at its end, and a 
bow- window at its side overlooking the lawn and flower- 
beds. A pair of folding doors separated it from another 
tiny parlor, its exact counterpart. It was furnished 
with low, softly-cushioned chairs, broad, yielding sofas, 
tempting fauteuils, and Moorish cushions, all covered 
with crimson reps. The carpet was crimson also, as 
were the window-hangings, A few excellent engrav- 
ings and one or two choice paintings hung upon the 
gray-tinted walls. A crimson-draped bracket or two 
upheld a miniature marble bust. In the inner parlor 


Miss McTavish. 


2 59 


was a cottage piano. The rooms seemed habitually 
used, for an open book lay upon a table by one window, 
and in the bow-window an easy -chair and hassock, and 
a wicker work-stand heaped with some dainty sort of 
embroidery and gaily-colored wools seemed to have 
been that instant deserted. 

Beatrix sat down. Mrs. Talcut remained standing in 
a respectful attitude near the door. 

“ Miss McTavish is a long time in coming,’' said Bea- 
trix presently, with a look of uneasiness. 

“ She’ll be here directly, Miss,” replied Mrs. Talcut, 
in a whisper. “ I hope you’ll like her, Miss Clare. She 
is odd, but she is a real lady and will be a friend to one 
of Lady Folliott’s friends.” 

The maid had scarcely given this assurance when 
the sounds of feminine approach were heard in the 
hall without, and Miss McTavish, in a rustling silk 
gown and with clattering boot-heels, entered the par- 
lor. 

Beatrix had expected to behold a tall, large Scots- 
woman, with sandy hair and rugged features. She saw 
instead, as she rose up, a very small old woman, with 
white hair drawn smoothly away from her sunken tem- 
ples, a delicate little face, reminding one of a withered 
apple, and a shriveled little figure, clad in silk, as we 
have said, and closely enfolded in a cashmere shawl. 

The expression of Miss McTavish’s face was kindly 
but querulous. She was one of those unfortunate 
beings made up entirely of sensitive nerves. She liked 
company, but noise and confusion worried her. In the 
place of great troubles, of which she had had but few 
in the course of her life, she made the most of small 
annoyances. Kindly, social, generous, and good-heart- 
ed, she was yet unconsciously selfish, and easily 


2 SO 


Beatrix Rohan . 


troubled. Her first thought in all matters was of their 
effect upon her health. 

Such was Miss Octavia McTavish — or Miss Tavy 
McTavish, as she was generally called by her hosts of 
acquaintances and friends who liked to throng to her 
pretty, orderly house. 

She came up to Beatrix with both her thin hands 
extended and with a bright smile upon her sallow 
face. 

“Welcome, my dear Miss Clare,’' she exclaimed, in a 
little thin, high voice. “ Lady Folliott has commended 
you to my tenderest care. You are welcome for Lady 
Folliott’s sake and for your own !” 

Beatrix flushed under the warmth of her reception, 
and gave one of her hands into Miss McTavish’s keep- 
ing. But that lady, who was of a gushing nature, des- 
pite her years, turned up her face in a bird-like fashion 
and proffered a kiss, which Beatrix hastened to receive 
and return. 

“ Lady Folliott tells me that you have a very 
romantic story,” said Miss McTavish. “ I dote upon 
romance. You must tell me all about yourself, my 
dear Miss Clare — not now, of course, but as soon as you 
become rested. You look tired, and I shall send you 
up to your room at once to rest. You are to remain 
with me a whole year, my dear, you know, so we have 
time enough before us. You did not come alone ?” 

“ No, madam ; Mrs. Talcut took charge of me.” 

Miss McTavish wheeled about abruptly, confronting 
the maid, who very stiff and very grim, was still stand- 
ing near the door. 

“ Ah !” said Miss McTavish, in a tone of recognition. 
“ How do, Talcut? Glad to see you. You left my lady 
well, I hope ?” 


A Stranger from India . 


261 


“ Very well, thank you, Miss McTavish,” was the 
reply. 

Miss McTavish pulled a crimson bell-cord close at 
hand. A burly Scotswoman, the lady’s housekeeper, 
answered the summons. 

“ Saunders,” said the little old lady, with a grand air, 
“ is the guest-chamber in readiness for occupancy ?” 

“Yes, my leddy. It was fresh-aired and made up 
the day,” answered Saunders. 

“Show this young lady — Miss Clare — to it, then, 
Saunders, and give the room adjoining to Mrs. Talcut,” 
commanded Miss McTavish. “ I will come to your door 
an hour hence, my dear Miss Clare. In the meantime, 
try to get some rest.” 

She dismissed Beatrix with an airy kiss. As the girl 
followed the housekeeper upstairs, she thought within 
herself : 

“ This will be a safe refuge if Colonel Brand does not 
find me out. But once let him get upon my track, once 
let him command Miss McTavish to give me up into 
his custody, and I should find her a broken reed indeed 
to lean upon !” 

» 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 


A STRANGER FROM INDIA. 


The return of Colonel Brand, with the policeman, his 
ally, to Spalding, was accomplished within an hour 
after quitting the precincts of Folliott Court. They 
proceeded direct to the railway-station. 

Their eager inquiries speedily elicited the fact that a 
train had just quitted the station, but the station-master. 


262 


Beatrix Rohan, 


the porters, and other officials declared that no passen- 
ger had embarked who bore a resemblance to the 
fugitive Miss Rohan. 

Colonel Brand and his assistant withdrew to a little 
distance for private consultation. 

“ She must have been disguised,” said the former. 
“ We must get a description of every person who pro- 
cured a ticket at the booking-office within the past 
hour.” 

“ That will do no good, sir,” replied the policeman, 
shrewdly. “ My lady is too sharp to send Miss Rohan 
direct to the station, so that you can trace her out with- 
out trouble. No, Colonel. Miss Rohan and her maid 
did not come to Spalding.” 

The officer spoke with an air of assurance that 
impressed his employer. 

“ Then where the duce did they go ?” demanded the 
colonel. “ And why didn’t you arrive at that convic- 
tion before ?” 

“ It is quite clear to me now that they didn’t come 
here,” said the officer, meditatively. “ Our time is not 
altogether lost since we have learned that fact, 
although we have given the fugitives so much greater 
start of us. Lady Folliott is keen as a brier. She 
might have sent Miss Rohan out on a drive, to remain 
out until your departure, and the young lady may be 
dining at Folliott Court at this moment as comfortable 
as you please. But that’s not likely. A warrant looks 
an ugly thing to a lady. I am sure my lady has sent 
your ward away to some friend of her own, Colonel.” 

“One does not require to be very astute to see that,” 
snarled Colonel Brand. “ But where is the residence 
of that friend ? Within a few miles of Folliott Court, 
or at a distance ?” 

“At a distance, I should say,” declared the officer 


A Stranger from India. 


2 63 


astutely. “ My lady will expect you to haunt this 
neighborhood for the present, and she would not con- 
sider Miss Rohan safe here. I should say that our 
next step would be to visit Bourne. We may get track 
of the fugitives at the Bourne railway-station.” 

This idea impressed Colonel Brand favorably. In- 
action was terrible to him. He hastened to make 
inquiries in regard to the departure of trains, and find- 
ing that no train would leave Spalding before the 
following morning, announced his intention of proceed- 
ing by post-chaise. 

The officer acceded to this plan. The fly, which was 
still in waiting, was dismissed. A carriage, with fresh 
horses and a driver who knew the roads well, was 
obtained, and Colonel Brand and his assistant departed 
in hot haste for Bourne. 

It was after ten o’clock when they drove up to the 
railway station at Bourne. Colonel Brand dashed into 
the building, followed by hi$ assistant. There were no 
loungers at this hour. The lights were dim ; the station- 
master and porters looked sleepy. The business of the 
day was over, and the officials were preparing to return 
to their homes. 

“ Five minutes later, and we should have found no 
one here,” said Colonel Brand. “ We are fortunate in 
our arrival.” 

He accosted the station-master, and succeeded also in 
finding the ticket agent, who yet lingered about the 
station. 

A brief interview with these men promptly sufficed 
to convince Colonel Brand that Beatrix and Mrs. Tal- 
cut had departed in a train from that very station at an 
earlier hour of that same evening. 

“We are all right,” he declared, in an aside, to the 
policeman. “ This vailed young lady, slender, graceful 


264 


Beatrix Roha7t. 


and shrinking, is my niece, of course. The elderly 
woman is Lady Folliott’s maid. They are gone to 
London. I shall telegraph at once to the London ter- 
minus to have them stopped upon their arrival there. 
They shall find that I am too sharp for them." 

Accordingly, Colonel Brand telegraphed directly to 
London, and then, well-pleased with his measure of 
success, and having learned that nothing further could 
be done until morning, he retired to the Angel Hotel, 
with his assistant, and procured quarters for the night. 

The next morning, sending the policeman back to 
Spalding in the post-chase, with a liberal fee k and with 
minute directions to keep a close watch upon the move- 
ments of Sir Lionel Charlton, should the young baronet 
depart from the Spalding station, Colonel Brand 
departed by the first mail -train for London. 

He expected to find his fugitive niece in close custody 
awaiting his arrival. To his utter amazement and 
disappointment, she was not anywhere to be found, she 
had not arrived at the London terminus, and he could 
learn nothing as to her whereabouts. 

The only course open to him was to retrace his route, 
step by step, to Bourne, and ascertain at what station 
Beatrix and her attendant had left the train. 

This course he hastened to take, but the task was 
more difficult than he had imagined. His efforts, in 
fact, resulted in total failure. 

He found, indeed, the guard who had attended the 
train the night of Beatrix’s journey. This guard ac- 
knowledged seeing the young lady and her attendant. 
He recalled the circumstance of the elderly gentle- 
man’s debarkation at Peterborough, and the fact that 
the elderly gentleman had let himself out with his own 
private key upon arriving at his destination. But the 
guard did not see Beatrix alight, and had not gone near 


A Stranger from India. 


265 


the carriage until its arrival at the London terminus, 
the young lady’s attendant having at the commence- 
ment of her journey made a request to be left entirely 
undisturbed. 

“ The old woman must have had a key and let her- 
self out unseen,” remarked Colonel Brand in dismay. 
“ I must visit every town at which the train stopped and 
make inquiries.” 

He began his search at Peterborough, visiting the 
hotels, inns, and even lodging-houses. He obtained 
not the faintest clue to the fugitives. No one had seen 
the persons he described at Peterborough, and he 
reluctantly departed to the next station upon the line. 

For a week Colonel Brand worked indefatigably, but 
without a glimmer of success. Thanks to Mrs.Talcut’s 
shrewdness, the fugitives had completely eluded him. 

Thoroughly alarmed and chagrined, he returned to 
Spalding and had an interview with his aid, the police 
officer. Sir Lionel Charlton had not quitted Folliott 
Court, but Mrs. Talcut had returned to it and her rail- 
way ticket had been from London direct. 

With this piece of information, Colonel Brand went 
back to London. 

He half expected to find waiting for him another 
communication from the mysterious “ Ann Jones,” 
betraying the refuge of Beatrix, but in this he was dis- 
appointed. 

“ I shall hear from my unknown correspondent very 
soon, I am quite sure,” he said to himself. “ Beatrix is 
doubtless in London. I will continue my search, but I 
am persuaded that my illiterate and mysterious friend 
who wears silk gowns and jewels will presently come 
to my relief. Patience ! Patience !” 

Convinced that Beatrix had not quitted England, and 
desiring aid in his search, he telegraphed to his wife 


266 


Beatrix Rohan. 


and son to join him. Upon the second day thereafter 
they were with him, bringing their keen, trained wits 
and unscrupulous natures to his assistance. 

Meanwhile, at Folliott Court all had not gone on 
to the satisfaction of the false Miss Bermyngham. 
Regarding Beatrix as a dangerous rival, and desiring 
above all things to betray the young fugitive to her 
enemies, the impostor found herself utterly powerless 
from the want of the knowledge of Beatrix’s refuge. 

Upon the very night of Miss Rohan’s abrupt and 
secret departure, Lady Folliott was taken ill with a low, 
nervous fever, which had been for some days impend- 
ing, and which compelled her to remain in bed for the 
next fortnight. 

The housekeeper, during Talcut’s absence, was kept 
in close attendance upon the baroness. The false Miss 
Bermyngham was permitted to visit her ladyship, but 
the physician having enjoined quiet upon his patient, 
and the patient herself avoiding all wearying subjects, 
and making no allusions whatever to Beatrix, the 
impostor made her visits as brief as possible, and deter- 
mined to gain the information she desired from other 
sources. 

When Mrs. Talcut returned, after an absence of four 
or five days, the false Miss Bermyngham laid siege to 
her, but the lady’s-maid was grim and reticent, and kept 
her own counsel despite all the blandishments of the 
supposed Indian heiress. 

Thus repulsed, the schemer turned her attention to 
Sir Lionel Charlton. 

But the young baronet divided his time, for the most 
part, between Lady Folliott’s chamber and rambles out 
of doors. He spent only his evenings in the drawing- 
room with the impostor. He was uniformly courteous 
to her ; he seemed to like her ; but still his manner to 


A Stranger from India. 


267 


her did not differ from his manner to other young ladies. 
The false Miss Bermyngham was filled with a jealous 
bitterness and hatred of her rival. 

“ I might have won him before this but for her," she 
thought. “ If Colonel Brand would only carry her away 
to some secret place and force her into a marriage with 
his son, all would be well. Once Sir Lionel finds that 
he cannot win Beatrix, he will agree to his aunt's wishes 
and offer himself to me. If I only knew where the girl 
is !” 

She could not put the question point-blank to Sir 
Lionel Charlton. In case Beatrix were again found by 
her guardian, suspicions of treachery might be awak- 
ened. She must take good care that those suspicions 
should not be directed against her. 

It was hard to possess her soul in patience, yet a fort- 
night passed and she had given no sign of the eager, 
envious passions consuming her. 

Still another week went by, and Lady Folliott came 
down stairs, and took her place at the table and in the 
family carriage, and received visitors, but still her lady- 
ship remained reticent upon the subject of Beatrix. 

This reticence was not, however, due to distrust. 
The baroness had received two letters from Beatrix, 
post-marked London, Miss McTavish having sent them 
to a friend of her own in town to be posted, and these 
letters had breathed a sense of security and content, 
which had greatly pleased their recipient. As her inter- 
view with Colonel Brand had been excessively annoy- 
ing to her, and as her championship of Beatrix’s cause 
threatened further annoyance, Lady Folliott forebore to 
make a confidant of her niece, desiring to spare her all 
anxiety or trouble in the matter. 

A month had passed since Beatrix’s departure from 
Folliott Court. June, with its soft and balmy airs 


268 


Beatrix Rohan. 


blowing over the fens, its flowers and its radiance, was 
come. 

One afternoon, Lady Folliott and her pretended niece 
went out for their usual drive. Sir Lionel Charlton 
had departed a day or two previous for London, to be 
absent a week, and there was, in consequence, a discon- 
tented and somewhat fretful expression upon the coun- 
tenance of the impostor. 

Yet she had not permitted Sir Lionel’s absence to 
affect her devotion to her toilette. Dressed in a car- 
riage-costume of ecru silk trimmed with Chantilly lace, 
and wearing a coquettish black lace hat with ecru 
ostrich plume and tea-roses, with a white, dotted vail 
over her pink-and-white face, she looked even more 
than usually pretty, and her conviction of this fact pres- 
ently softened her mood to its wonted complacency. 

Shading her face with a small ecru parasol, covered 
with white lace, she said, in a childish, lisping voice, as 
the carriage-wheels rolled over the draw-bridge and 
passed out at the lodge-gates : 

“ Where do we go to-day, Aunt Folliott ? Are we to 
make any visits ?” 

“ No, my dear,” replied the baroness. “ I have a let- 
ter to post and a few purchases to make at the fancy- 
goods shop, and then we will go down by the Archen- 
dyke drain, and home again through Folliott Park. I 
am not equal to visiting to-day.” 

“ A letter to post !” cried the false Miss Bermyngham, 
unable to conceal her eagerness. “ Is it for Beatrix, 
dear Aunt Folliott ?” 

“Yes,” answered the baroness. “My letter is for 
Beatrix.” 

Another question trembled upon the girl’s lips, but 
she refrained from uttering it. She was very cautious 


A Stranger from India . 


269 


and guarded ; she would not betray her own intense 
interest in the whereabouts of Beatrix. 

As Lady Folliott said nothing further concerning the 
young fugitive, the impostor became very silent. They 
drove swiftly along the pleasant country road and 
entered the chief street of Folliott Fens, drawing up 
before the general shop in which was situated also the 
post-office. 

The baroness descended ; the false Miss Bermyngham 
followed her, her delicate silk trailing over the rude 
pavement. They entered the shop, and Lady Folliott 
proceeded to the fancy-goods counter. 

“Your letter, Aunt Folliott ?” said the girl. “ Have 
you forgotten it ? Let me post it for you, there’s a 
darling !” 

Lady Folliott opened a little shopping- bag which she 
carried and extracted from it a letter, which she gave 
into the girl’s hands with a smile. 

The impostor hastened to post it at the opposite side 
of the room, at the same time noting the address : “ Miss 
Marcell, 44Cravenhill Street, London, W.” 

She repeated the address to herself several times, 
impressing it upon her mind. 

“I shall remember it,” she thought. “I’ll write to 
Colonel Brand to-night. Sir Lionel Charlton is in Lon- 
don. He is with her ! I’ll put an end to his visits to 
her in the course of a day or two.” 

She slowly returned to Lady Folliott, who desired her 
opinion upon some fancy-work. Throwing back her 
vail, the impostor examined flosses, silks and canvas 
with an air of discrimination and gave her verdict 
promptly. 

“That is all, then,” said Lady Folliott. “You may 
send the things out to the carriage, Mrs. Willicks. 


Beatrix Rohan . 


270 


The shop- woman hastened to obey. The baroness 
arose, and moved toward the door. 

While the ladies had been thus occupied within the 
shop a man had come out of the inn over the way and 
approached a hostler who was pumping* water industri- 
ously into a horse-trough. 

The man first-mentioned was a great hulking ill-look- 
ing fellow, his face all seamed and scarred, and with 
only one eye. The eyelids closed tightly, almost con- 
cealing the loss of the other. The eye that remained to 
him was a peculiarly bold and sinister orb, unwinking 
and seeming full of wicked meaning. He wore no beard, 
and his wide mouth and square jaws had a singularly 
ugly expression. To complete his ill-appearance, his 
clothes were ill-fitting and worn to the last degree of 
shabbiness. 

The hostler looked askance at this individual, who 
had arrived from Spalding in the carrier’s cart not an 
hour before, and who had just partaken of dinner at 
the inn. 

“Can you tell me, good fellow,” said this hid- 
eously-scarred personage, “ how far it is to Folliott 
Court, and in which direction it is ?’ ” 

The hostler dropped his pump-handle. 

“ You must be a stranger here,” he exclaimed, “ not 
to know Folliott Court ?” 

“ Yes, I am a stranger,” replied the one-eyed man, 
impatiently. “ I was never in Lincolnshire before. I 
arrived here only an hour ago, and landed in England 
only yesterday.” 

“ Eh ?” said the hostler, stupidly. “ You speak Eng- 
lish well, mister. And where may you be from ?” 

“Iam English,” was the irritated answer. “But I 
am just from India. Answer my question !” 

He tossed the fellow a sixpence. 


A Stranger from India. 


271 


“ Folliott Court is a mile west of the Fens. That’s 
Folliott Park up yonder,” said the hostler, more politely. 
“If you’ve come up for alms, as a many do, and mean- 
ing no offence to you, that is the Folliott Court carriage 
over the way, and my lady and my lady’s niece are in 
the shop.” 

“ I prefer to go to Folliott Court, my business is pri- 
vate,” said the one-eyed man, with a dash of haughti- 
ness hardly to be expected in a man of his appearance. 
“ I would not speak to the ladies in the street.” 

Yet he sauntered across the street and halted on the 
sidewalk, seeming to admire the horses, which were 
champing their bits and pawing the earth. 

While he stood there, idle yet observant, Lady Fol- 
liott, in her black carriage costume, came out and 
entered the carriage. 

A moment later, the false Miss Bermyngham swept 
across the pavement with a sinuous grace and took her 
place opposite the baroness. 

The one-eyed stranger started forward eagerly, his 
face glowing like fire. 

The impostor had drawn down her short white vail to 
her red lips. As the footman climbed to his place, her 
gaze fell upon the hideous scarred face of the one-eyed 
man. 

A strange gasping cry broke from her lips. 

That cry was drowned in the noise of the wheels as 
the carriage started forward. The false Miss Bermyng- 
ham slowly averted her face, leaning over the side of 
the carriage. Her breath came in quick gasps. Her 
face was like the painted face of a corpse. Her eyes, 
wild and frenzied, had yet in them the stoniness of an 
awful terror. 

“ Alive ! alive !” she cried out, in the depths of her 
own horrified and affrighted soul. “ Alive ! good God ! 


72 


Beatrix Rohan. 


And I thought him dead. They said he was dead. 
Alive ! And what a hideous wretch he looks ! Is it 
he ? Yes, by my own instincts, by this deadly, creep- 
ing horror I know him. It is he. He has traced me 
from India as Agatha Walden. Has he detected me 
under this disguise ? Why is he here at Folliott Fens ? 
Did he recognize me ? Heaven ! I stand upon the 
verge of an abyss — of ruin ! I would give my soul to 
know if he recognized me !’* 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

MR. VOE. 

The false Miss Bermyngham possessed a wonderful 
self-control, a marvelous power of self-repression. The 
sight of the hideous one-eyed stranger, standing idly 
upon the sidewalk of the high street of Folliott Fens, 
seemed temporarily to turn her to stone. She was 
stunned — paralyzed. That deadly stare of horror 
seemed frozen in her hard, black eyes. No pallor 
showed through the pink and white tinting of her face, 
and yet, as we have said, that face looked like the 
painted face of a corpse. A wave of awful faintness 
swept over her. All her faculties were engulfed in the 
great and dread horror that possessed her being. 

But, gradually, the sound of the carriage-wheels 
obtruded itself upon her senses. An idle remark of 
Lady Folliott, who remained singularly pre-occupied 
and unobservant, startled her like a trumpet sound. 
And then her marvelous power of self-control stood her 
in good stead. She gathered up the reins of self-repres- 


Mr. Voe . 


2 73 


sion with a stern and powerful hand. Still dazed and 
bewildered, still terrified and affrighted, she yet gained 
a stony calmness and forced herself to reply, in a voice 
that was strained and hoarse, taking good care to keep 
her face averted. 

Her changed voice aroused the baroness, who looked 
at her with suddenly awakened interest. 

“ Are you ill, my dear ?” her ladyship inquired anxi- 
ously. “ Your tones are so hoarse.” 

“ I do not feel well, thank you, Aunt Folliott,” said 
the impostor, languidly. “ It is only a pain at my 
heart — a touch of the old disease which I fancied I was 
getting the better of — papa’s old disease, you know.” 

Lady Folliott was all alarm upon the instant. 

“ My dear child — my dear Nerea !” she exclaimed. 
“ What can I do for you ? You do look ill, although 
you are not pale. Shall we go home ?” 

“ Oh, no, no. I am quite well now,” said the impostor. 
“ Pray, don’t trouble yourself about me, Aunt Folliott. 
I am quite recovered. The fresh air revives me.” 

But the baroness was troubled despite this assertion. 
She produced her jeweled vinaigrette and gently com- 
pelled the girl to inhale the pungent odors it contained. 
She overwhelmed her with attentions, and was at length 
rewarded by seeing the impostor resume her usual 
manner and appearance. 

“ I must really see a medical man about your heart- 
disease, Nerea,” said Lady Folliott. “We will go up to 
London for the purpose. This is the first attack of it 
you have had since your return to England, is it not?” 

The false Miss Bermyngham assented and became 
silent. The baroness watched her anxiously, and 
became also very quiet ; but there was a deeper tender- 
ness in her manner throughout the remainder of the 
drive, toward her supposed niece. 


274 


Beatrix Rohan. 


They performed the drive as originally planned, and 
returned home through Folliott Park. As they crossed 
the draw-bridge and rolled over the lawn, the impostor 
swept keen and furtive glances from her downcast eyes 
in every direction around her. But the one-eyed 
stranger, the sight of whom had so startled her at Folli- 
ott Fens, was not lurking about the grounds of Folliott 
Court as she half-expected and wholly feared. She 
drew a long sigh of relief that seemed to come from 
the very depth of her being. 

They swept into the carriage-porch, and the girl was 
the first to alight. Lady Folliott descended more 
slowly, and the two entered the house together. 

After a brief colloquy they separated, going to their 
separate apartments. 

Safe in her own room, the false Miss Bermyngham 
double-locked her doors and stole to a recessed window, 
peeping cautiously out from between the folds of her 
lace and silken curtains upon the grounds spread out 
before her view, even scanning the highway beyond, a 
section of which was distinctly visible from her boudoir. 

The disreputable-looking stranger of Folliott Fens 
was not anywhere to be seen. 

She tore off her hat, as if its light pressure annoyed 
her, and sat down near the window. 

“ What does it all mean ? M she asked herself. “ How 
does it happen that he lives ? Why is he here at Fol- 
liot Fens ? Why did he leave India ? Did he recognize 
me ? If I knew — if I only knew !” 

As abruptly as she had sat down she rose up, and 
with a swift, panther-like motion hurried to a long pier- 
glass that stretched from the floor nearly to the ceiling 
between the windows, and looked at her reflection with 
great black, wide-open eyes that were full of flaming 
fire. 


Mr. Voe . 


275 


“ He knew me so thoroughly in the old days/' she 
said to herself. “ He knew me as well as I knew 
myself. He knew my tricks of make-up, my possibil- 
ities of disguise, my walk, my carriage, every feature of 
my face, every expression of my eyes. It is clear that 
he traced me to England under my disguise of Agatha 
Walden. He must have discovered that Agatha Walden 
is dead ! Surely, he would not suspect the rich Miss 
Bermyngham, the great India heiress, of being one 
and the same with Agatha Walden, with her!” 

She scanned her reflection eagerly and intently. 
The slight small figure in its Parisian dress of ecru silk 
and Chantilly lace, the creped and fluffy mass of red- 
gold hair, falling upon the low forehead, the pink-and 
white complexion, the red lips, all these made up a daz- 
zling little blonde creature of remarkable prettiness. 

“ No, no,” she muttered. “ He could not have known 
me. He would not suspect — he could not ! He would 
reject the suspicion, if it came to him, as utterly pre- 
posterous !” 

The hard, tense expression in her eyes relaxed. She 
felt again a sense of security that was inexpressibly 
delightful. 

“He did not know me,” she said, with an air of 
decision, returning to her seat in the window. “ And 
as for me, I should never have known him but for his 
eye. Or perhaps it was my instinct that told me. How 
changed he is ! Why, one who had known him in India 
with his fair face, his handsome features, his gay, 
bright, reckless ways, would never recognize him now ! 
They called him ‘ handsome Caspar,’ I remember. He is 
hideous Caspar now,” and she laughed unpleasantly. 
“ I thought he was dead and buried. But he has lived 
and recovered to become a very monster for boys to 
mock in the streets and for dogs to bark at ! And he 


276 


Beatrix Rohan . 


was so vain of his good-looks ! How he must hate me 
— that is her ! He was revengeful as Lucifer. If lie 
had really recognized me, he would have sprung upon 
me like a tiger. He would have denounced me — made 
a scene — had me arrested !” 

She shuddered and a desperate expression looked from 
her eyes for a single instant, but she had reassured her- 
self, her courage was in the ascendant, and with every 
moment now she grew more and more at her ease. 

Yet even as she continued to watch from her window, 
she beheld a man's figure upon the section of highway 
visible to her. Her gaze clung to it as if fascinated. 
The figure was presently hidden from her view by the 
intervening lodge, but a little later the small gate was 
flung open and the same figure appeared within the 
Folliott grounds. It crossed the marble arch spanning 
the moat and pursuing the wide pathway approached 
the mansion. The figure was that of the one-eyed 
stranger she had seen at Folliott Fens ! 

The impostor's heart seemed to stand still in her 
bosom. 

“ What does he want here ?" was the thought that 
formed itself in her mind. 

Her heart resumed its beatings after a slow and muf- 
fled fashion. 

The figure of the one-eyed stranger disappeared from 
her sight within the shadow of the porch. 

Then the false Miss Bermyngham sprang from her 
seat, flew to her door, unlocked it, and darted into her 
dressing-room. She tore off her carriage costume with 
reckless hands, tossing it from her in a tattered heap. 
As quickly as possible, she enveloped herself in a dress- 
ing-gown of palest blue cashmere, and rang her bell 
sharply twice, her summons to her maid. 

Her fingers yet clutched the embroidered bell-pull, 


Mr. Voe. 


*77 


when a knock was heard upon the door of her boudoir, 
and Finette entered, bearing a small silver waiter, with 
a letter upon it. The Frenchwoman advanced to the 
dressing-room. 

“ A footman was bringing this letter to you, milady,” 
said the maid, “ but I took it from him, insisting on 
bringing it to you myself, as I was on my way to 
you.” 

“ Well, what is it, Finette ?” asked her young mistress, 
languidly, and with a well-feigned indifference. “ A 
begging letter ?” 

“ I think so, milady. The footman says that the man 
who brought it waits below in the great hall for an 
answer. And Jenkins says, milady, that the man is 
frightful looking, and has only one eye, and his face all 
scars.” 

“ Give me the letter,” said the false Miss Bermyng- 
ham, quietly. “ And while I read it, Finette, you may 
get out my dinner-dress. I’ll wear black and silver 
to-day.” 

She took u.p the letter, and passed into her boudoir. 
Sinking down into the nearest chair, she turned the 
missive over and over in her hands. 

For a moment or more a blur covered her eyes, so 
that she could see nothing distinctly. Heaven knows 
what name she had feared to see upon that blue envel- 
ope, but when the blur cleared from her eyes she 
drew a long breath that was half a sob, as she 
read the address upon it — “ Miss Bermyngham, Folliott 
Court.” 

“ But what is in it ?” she asked herself, with a sensa- 
tion of sickness and cowardice. “ What does he say to 
me ? What a coward I am ! Better brave the worst !” 
She tore open the envelope, extracting the letter it 
enclosed. 


278 


Beatrix Rohan . 


The letter written upon coarse blue paper, in a busi- 
ness-like hand, read as follows : 

“In the Stationer’s Shop, Folliott Fens, \ 

June 2 1st, 1873. J 

“ Miss Bermyngham — Madam : Pardon a stranger 
for intruding upon you his own private business affairs ; 
but the fact that those affairs are to me of the most 
vital importance must be my excuse. I have just seen 
you enter your carriage with your noble relative, Lady 
Folliott, and although by reason of your vail, and 
because also of my own impaired eyesight, I did not 
gain a perfect view of your features, yet I am per- 
suaded that you will be gracious and kind even to one 
so far your social inferior as I. 

“ I desire to make some inquiries of you in regard to 
your maid, who is known to you under the name of 
Agatha Walden. I beg you not to allow her to know 
of this communication. If you will kindly grant me a 
few minutes’ interview, and pardon the awkwardness 
of my manner of addressing you in this letter and of 
making known my request, you will make me lastingly 
your debtor. 

“ Permit me to say, in conclusion, that for your own 
sake you should hear what I have to say concerning 
your maid. I am, madam, your obedient servant, 

“ Caspar Voe.” 

The false Miss Bermyngham ’s eyes gleamed from 
beneath their half-shut lids as she read and re-read this 
letter. 

“ He does not suspect that I am not Miss Bermyng- 
ham,” she said to herself exultantly. “ He does not 
suspect that I am the woman who called herself Agatha 
Walden. Blessings upon my vail, and upon his 


Mr. Voe. 


2 79 


impaired eyesight ! Losing one eye entirely has, I 
suppose, injured the sight of the other, thank my good 
genius ! And now, in regard to his communication. 
He has not heard that Agatha Walden is dead, it seems. 
He must be informed upon that point immediately.” 

After a moment’s thought, the impostor called to her 
maid. The Frenchwoman came quickly from the 
inner room. 

“ Finette,” said the young mistress, knitting her brows 
as in serious perplexity, “ this letter you brought me is 
very singular — very singular indeed. The writer is 
evidently a friend of the maid who attended me during 
my voyage from India. He makes inquiries about her, 
and desires an interview with me. It is quite impossi- 
ble that I should see him,” and she glanced down at her 
dressing-gown. “ You must go down to him, Finette, in 
my stead.” 

“ Yes, mademoiselle,” assented the Frenchwoman. 

“And tell him,” said the impostor, averting her face, 
and speaking in her usual soft and purring voice, “ that 
I am dressing and unable to see him. And break the 
news to him gently, Finette, that the girl Agatha 
Walden is dead. She died very suddenly, as we entered 
the London station, you may tell him. She was buried 
at my expense, poor creature ! They will tell him all 
about it at the station. Tell him to apply to the station- 
master.” 

“Yes, mademoiselle.” 

“Tell him,” continued the false Miss Bermyngham, 
“ that the woman entered my service the week before I 
left Calcutta for England ; that she was very anxious to 
leave India, and that I liked her at sight and was filled 
with pity for her ; she seeming to have had some great 
trouble, and that she gave me unexceptionable refer- 
ences from former employers, which, however, I had no 


28 o 


Beatrix Rohan . 


time to verify. So I might almost be said to have taken 
her without references. I know nothing whatever of 
her history. She was very silent about herself. She 
seemed always frightened about something, and had a 
fear of being pursued. Tell the man all this, Finette, 
and let him go.” 

The impostor put up one jeweled hand as to conceal 
a yawn, and with the other made a gesture of dismissal 
to her attendant. 

Finette departed upon her errand. 

Making her way to the great lower hall, the French- 
woman discovered the visitor seated in a tall-backed, 
carved Elizabethan chair. The hall-porter was in his 
usual seat near the door, at some little distance from 
the stranger, of whose presence he had ceased to take 
cognizance. 

Finette tripped up to the hideous, one-eyed stranger, 
who arose at her approach, bowing politely. 

“ I am milady’s maid, monsieur,” said the French- 
woman, it being her custom to bestow a title upon her 
young mistress at her own caprice. “ I am come to you 
in her place. It is about milady’s former maid, the poor 
Agatha, that you have come ?” 

The stranger, Casper Voe, as he had signed himself 
in his letter to the pretended India heiress, stared at the 
woman uncomprehendingly. 

“ I don’t understand,” he said, a blank expression 
overspreading his scarred and seamed visage. “ Are 
you Miss Bermyngham’s maid ? Are you Agatha 
Walden ?” 

“ Non, non,” said Finette, shaking her head. “ I am 
mademoiselle’s maid, Finette Dubois. I am not Agathe 
Valden.” 

The blank expression upon Casper Voe’s face deep- 
ened. 


Mr . Voe % 


281 


“ Is not Miss Bermyngham newly arrived from India ?” 
he asked. 

“ Certainment. She arrived three months since, 
monsieur.” 

“ And you came with her from India ?” 

“ I ? But no, monsieur. She was attend by an Eng- 
lish maid, the one you have named, Agathe Valden.” 

Casper Voe’s face lit up with a sudden, lurid glow. 

“We have been talking at cross-purposes, I think, 
mademoiselle,” he said. “ Is not this Agatha Valden 
now in the employ of Miss Bermyngham ?” 

The Frenchwoman replied in the negative. 

“ Where is Agatha Walden, then ?” 

Finette stole a furtive glance at the hideous, scarred 
face, all flushed with eagerness and glowing with a 
strange and indefinable expression that was both puz- 
zling and disagreeable. The one eye of Caspar Voe 
stared at her with a bold and ravenous glance, as if he 
would tear her knowledge of Agatha W?lden from her 
as a wild beast tears a coveted morsel from a weaker 
grasp. 

The Frenchwoman shrank away from the visitor with 
a quick fear. 

“ Were you Agathe Valden’s friend ?* she asked. 
“Her lover ?” 

“ No,” he answered. “ Neither her friend nor lover.” 

And by the lurid glow upon his visage, by the bold, 
bad light in his eye, and by the quick and terrible 
expression covering his features, the quick-witted 
Frenchwoman read that this man was indeed no friend 
to the woman who had called herself Agatha Walden 
but was instead her bitter, relentless and deadly 
enemy. 

“Then,” said Finette, shrinking away still further, 


282 


Beatrix Rohan. 


“I may as well tell you the truth. Agathe Valden is 
death !” 

“ Dead ? Dead ?” 

“ Yes, monsieur. She died at the very moment of 
her arrival into London — ” 

“ I don’t believe it ! It’s only one of her tricks. Oh, 
she was tricky as a devil ! She feared I had survived 
— she knew the officers of the law would be on her 
track, and she meant to throw her pursuers off her 
scent ! Dead ! That story might go down with one 
who did not know her so well as I. She was a she- 
devil, all arts, all wiles ! Dead ! I would not believe 
it, if I saw her in her coffin. She was as tenacious of 
life as a cat. Dead ! Impossible !” 

“ But, monsieur, she is dead of heart-disease — ” 

“ Heart-disease ? She had no heart,” sneered Caspar 
Voe, his eye growing strangely brilliant, his face grow- 
ing deathly white. “ I don’t believe it, mademoiselle. 
Who saw her die ?” 

“ Milady, monsieur.” 

“ Miss Bermyngham saw Agatha Walden die ! Can 
I see Miss Bermyngham ?” 

“ Impossible, monsieur. Mademoiselle must dress 
for dinner. She wish to be excuse. She told me 
what to say. Agathe Valden is surely dead and 
buried.” 

“ Buried ?” cried Voe, eagerly. “ Did Miss Bermyng- 
ham see her buried ?” 

“ No, monsieur — ” 

“ I thought not. I knew she could not have seen her 
buried. There is some mistake about her death. Miss 
Bermyngham may have thought her dead when she 
was only in a swoon.” 

“ You can learn all the story from the station-master 
at the London terminus,” said the Frenchwoman, 


Mr, Voe, 


283 


briefly. “ The girl is dead, and milady paid the 
expenses of her burial.” 

“ If I could see Miss Bermyngham for only a few 
moments !” said Caspar Voe, in a low, quick voice. “You 
see, mademoiselle, I am not quite certain that this Aga- 
tha Walden is the woman of whom I am in search. It 
is true that I think they are one and the same, but the 
personal descriptions of the two differ. I may be mis- 
taken. I am assailed with doubts and suspicions. Miss 
Bermyngham alone can satisfy these, and set my mind 
at rest forever. If she would only answer me a few 
questions concerning this maid of hers I should be sat- 
isfied. Do you not think you could induce her to give 
me a few minutes’ private audience, mademoiselle ?” 

“ Impossible, monsieur. Milady will not see you.”’ 

“Nothing is impossible to a clever Frenchwoman,” 
said Caspar Voe insinuatingly. “ I am persuaded, 
mademoiselle, that your young lady would see me if you 
were to urge her to do so. But if she should still refuse, 
why you are clever enough to obtain for me an inter- 
view, I am sure.” 

Finette was upon the point of uttering a vehement 
protest against this assertion, but the one-eyed stranger 
withdrew from his waistcoat-pocket two golden sover- 
eigns, whose brightness dazzled her eyes, and she hast- 
ened to answer in a very different tone from that which 
had first suggested itself to her : 

“I will see what I can do, monsieur. Milady will 
dress, will dine, and will sit with madam the baronne 
this evening. But to-morrow . 4 he will walk in the park. 
Sir Lionel is gone. She will be alone. Monsieur can 
then see her.” 

“ Who is Sir Lionel ?” 

“ Sir Lionel Charlton, the nephew of Lady Folliott, 


284 


Beatrix Rohan . 


very handsome, very noble. Mademoiselle will marry 
him.” 

“Ah! she will marry him!” said Mr. Voe, slowly. 
“Yes. I see ! And you could not find an opportunity 
for me to see Miss Bermyngham until morning ?” 

“ I think not. If Lady Folliott should retire early, as 
she does of late, you might then see Miss Bermyngham 
in the drawing-room. She sometimes remains there at 
the piano after madam retires.” 

Mr. Voe dropped the two sovereigns into the French- 
woman’s hands. 

“ I won’t trouble you further,” he said. “ I will act 
upon your hints for myself.” 

He bowed courteously and walked away. The hall- 
porter gave him egress. 

.As he went down the wide stone steps of the porch, 
Caspar Voe said to himself : 

“ It would seem my best course to go back to London 
and begin my search there at the station. But I will 
not go until I have seen this Miss Bermyngham. And 
I shall see her this very night. I swear it !” 

And with a grim, hard smile he strode down the 
avenue, crossed the draw-bridge, and vanished in the 
road beyond. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

'THE FAMILIAR VOICE. 

The long gray English twilight had given place to the 
soft warm shadows of the evening. The ladies of Fol- 
liott Court had dined, and were now in the drawing- 
room. Lady Folliott, in a high black-silk gown, with a 
stately Elizabethan ruff of point lace encircling her neck 


Mr. Voe. 


285 


and setting off her high-coiffed, noble head as an appro- 
priate frame sets off to advantage a handsome picture, 
half -reclined in a great Voltaire chair, a bit of wool 
embroidery in her hands. 

The false Miss Bermyngham sat at the piano, her 
fingers straying idly over the keys, producing a dreamy 
melody as soft and sweet as the music of distant even- 
ing bells. 

The impostor, despite her newly-awakened terrors 
and anxieties, was dressed with great care and taste. If 
her guilty, shallow soul held one passion greater than 
another, that passion was love of luxury and indolence. 
To wear silken robes, and misty lace, and gleaming 
jewels, to loll on satin couches, to be waited upon, these 
were for her the great goods of life. And thus, even 
upon this evening, she was handsomely attired, and after 
a manner to enhance the charms of her pink-and-white 
complexion, and the red-gold dishevelment of her hair. 

Her dress was of thin, black silken tissue, the flounces 
embroidered with silver. Her belt was of flexible sil- 
ver, with a jeweled clasp. Her ornaments were all of 
filigree silver, of oriental design and manufacture ; 
but jewels were held here and there among the slender 
wires, like fireflies caught in a gleaming net. 

Lady Folliott’s gaze dwelt upon the small, childish 
figure, in its night-like draperies of cloud and starlight, 
with an expression of the deepest tenderness and affec- 
tion. This girl, with her caressing, purring ways, with 
her kitten-like softness and pretty childishness, was 
growing dearer to her with every hour. She realized 
that fact now with startling force. The incident of the 
afternoon — the girl’s pretended illness — had aroused 
her affection for her supposed niece to quicker force 
and keener action. 

“ It’s the tie of blood, I suppose, that attracts me to 


286 


Beatrix Rohan . 


her so strongly/’ the baroness thought, as she continued 
to regard the girl. “ And yet I think I should love her 
if she were not akin to me, she is so guileless, so inno- 
cent, so sweet ! How can Lion resist her artless sweet- 
ness, her winning prettiness ? And yet Beatrix, with 
her beauty, her noble character, her steadfast resolute- 
ness, her grandeur of soul, her scorn of little arts and 
trickeries, perhaps far better deserves his love. She is 
more nearly his equal. It is all a puzzle to me,” and 
Lady Folliott sighed. “Yet I am convinced that Nerea 
will make him happy, and every interest will be served 
by their union. As for Beatrix, with her fortune and 
her beauty, she will make a grand alliance a year or 
two hence. If it were not for my niece, I should be 
well pleased to have Lion marry Beatrix. But that is 
now impossible. Nerea loves Lion, and he will — he 
must — marry her.” 

She continued to meditate upon this subject, plan- 
ning how to carry out her cherished' schemes for the 
union of Sir Lionel Charlton and her supposed niece. 
The mi*sic, soft and dreamy, rippled slowly from be- 
neath the jeweled fingers of the pretended Nerea. 

The windows were open to admit the evening breeze. 
The lace curtains fell to the floor and their misty folds 
were stirred with the soft summer wind. The grates 
were filled with rare and beautiful ferns. The vases on 
the mantelpieces were crowded with odorous flowers. 
The fragrance of the garden blossoms crept in on the 
light breeze. The dozen wax-lights burned mellowly 
in their silver sconces. The great drawing-room, with 
its frescoed ceiling, its hundred articles of luxury and 
ease, its rare pictures, its gleaming statuary, its great 
chandeliers, with their forests of unlighted candles, its 
stately furniture, its two occupants, presented a charm- 
ing picture of elegance and luxury. 


The Familiar Voice. 


287 


This picture was not to be without an observer. 

The night without was bright and pleasant, with star- 
light, with the softness and sweetness of a balmy June 
evening. Through the park c?me the figure of the 
hideous one-eyed stranger from India — Mr. Caspar Voe. 
He pursued an avenue shaded by trees which led to the 
mansion. He crossed the marble arch spanning the 
moat, and with fleet and silent steps crossed the lawn 
with its shade-trees, its fountains, and statuary, and 
drew near to the great-house. 

The lights from the drawing-room caught his eye. 
The rippling music reached his ears. 

“ Miss Bermyngham is playing to her aunt,” he said 
to himself, halting involuntarily in the shadow of a 
marble faun, mounted upon a pedestal. “ Or, possibly, 
she is alone ? I must see.” 

He moved onward, creeping close to the walls of the 
house. A flowering shrub in a great tub before one of 
the drawing-room windows afforded him concealment. 
He crept between the shrub and the window, and 
peeped cautiously into the room. 

At first the long and splendid vista dazzled him, but 
presently he made out the figure of Lady Folliott in her 
chair. But the player at the piano was out of the range 
of his vision. He ventured to put forth his hand and 
push back the folds of the curtains, and to peer in with 
an eye all ablaze with eagerness, but he could not see 
the false Miss Bermyngham. 

His gaze settled upon the handsome face of Lady 
Folliott. He noted how strong was that face, how 
thoughtful, how resolute. Its calm, high-bred air of 
repose did not escape him. Nor did the tender, affec- 
tionate regard she sent in the direction of the girl at 
the piano escape his observation. 

“ How she loves her niece !” he said to himself. “I 


288 


Beatrix Rohan. 


wish I could see Miss Bermyngham. What’s to pre- 
vent my going again to yonder door and asking to see 
her? The footman could not say that she is now 
engaged. Why shouldn’t I boldly demand to see her ?” 
He drew back a little and looked down at his garments. 

They were thoroughly shabby. 

“ I see now why I was not admitted before,” he 
thought. “ The footman took me for a beggar. Well, 
I look like one. And my hideous face, my single eye, 
my scars, and my general repulsiveness of visage, 
doubtless frightened the worthy fellow. He may have 
taken me for a thief. No, he will send me away as 
before if I apply to him. It is not for such as I to 
approach the great heiress, the dainty silk-robed Miss 
Bermyngham ! I shall be able to see her only by the 
use of strategy. But I will see her ! I will not go 
back to London to trace out the fate of Agatha Walden 
until I shall have seen Miss Bermyngham and heard 
from her own lips all she knew about the girl who 
attended her on the voyage from India ! If I go back 
to London, I shall learn only the dry and barren facts 
of the woman’s death and burial. But Miss Bermyng- 
ham can describe her maid to me ; she can tell me the 
color of her eyes and complexion ; the tones of her 
voice ; her ways. A few words from Miss Bermyng- 
ham will set at rest forever my doubts and suspicions 
in regard to Agatha Walden. A few words from her 
will convince me whether I have come from India on a 
wild goose chase, leaving the woman of whom I am in 
search in hiding there, or whether under the light- 
colored hair and light skin of Agatha Walden were 
hidden the black hair and swarthy complexion of Lilias 
Voe, the fugitive from justice ; Lilias Voe, my wife, 
the murderer of our child, the almost murderer of 
myself !” 


The Familiar Voice . 


28 9 


He gritted his teeth savagely, and his one eye burned 
like a coal of fire. 

Lilias Voe, the escaped murderess— his wife, the 
destroyer of her child and his — his attempted destroyer ! 
This was the woman of whom he was in* search, his 
very soul thirsting for revenge upon her, this the 
woman whom he suspected of having effected her 
escape from India under the assumed name of Agatha 
Walden, and under the disguise of Miss Bermyngham’s 
maid ! 

“ Only let me find out the truth !” he muttered, under 
his breath. “ But I hope that she is not dead ! If ever 
I prayed, I'd pray that she might not be dead ! Dead ! 
I'll never believe it ! It is only a trick she played. She 
knew that the officers of justice would pursue her — that 
the bloodhounds of the law would be on her track. 
She has feigned death to throw them off the scent. 
Oh, she was cunning — a very devil ! I'll scour all 
England but that I find her. And when I find her 
I’ll torture her cowardly soul even unto death. And 
when I shall have tortured her to my fill I will give her 
over into the hangman’s hands.” 

He set his teeth together hard and his face looked as 
might have looked the face of a demon. 

Meanwhile, all unconscious of the lurking aven- 
ger without, unconscious of the gleaming eye at the 
window, the false Miss Bermyngham played on. 

But presently the music stopped abruptly, and she 
arose and crossed the floor with studied grace and sank 
down into a chair at a little distance from Lady Fol- 
liott, and within range of the eye at the window. 

Caspar Voe started and surveyed her eagerly. 

As he had said in his note to the false Miss Ber- 
myngham, the sight of his remaining eye had been 
greatly impaired since the loss of its mate. Yet he 


2 go 


Beatrix Rohan . 


could make out the outlines of the slight and child- 
like figure, the flowing folds of her black dress, the 
gleam of her rich jewels. More than this, he could 
distinguish the features of her face. 

He saw that her face was softly tinted, pink and 
white, that her lips were like reddest coral, that her 
hair was of a red-gold shade, and heaped high in fluffy 
puffs and crimps, after a fashion new to his colonial eye. 
She seemed to him rarely lovely, a delicate piece of 
prettiness, a high-bred, dainty creature, worthy her 
great fortune. 

“ She’s not haughty, nor overbearing/’ he said, to him- 
self, eyeing her critically. “ She is like a French in- 
genue. I’ve seen dozens of them on the stage. Lilias, 
with her own black hair and black eyes, made up well 
in the part. No crack actress at one of the swell 
theatres could have excelled her in that one part. 
If she was a second-rate, music-hall actress she 
had real talent in her. What a swell this Miss Ber- 
myngham is ! One could tell that she had been 
born to a high station !” 

The false Miss Bermyngham took up a piece of 
embroidery and lazily pushed the needle in and out of 
the meshes. She was not accomplished, as Lady Fol- 
liott had long since discovered. She could not draw, 
or paint pictures, even in water colors. She understood 
no language save her own. She could dance like a 
sylph, but she declared that she could not sing. She 
could play the piano, rendering certain pieces, mostly 
operatic, with perfect accuracy, but the soul was gen- 
erally lacking from these performances. She gave the 
letter of the music ; the subtle spirit she failed to catch. 
She had no liking for charity-work. She did not like to 
read. And so she fell back, for amusement and 
employment, at those rare times when she desired 


The Familiar Voice . 


291 


employment, upon the great resource of the vapid- 
minded, indolent young women of the present day, 
fancy-work. 

But even this she did not do heartily, as if it were 
a pleasure to her. After a few stitches, she dropped 
her canvas and leaned back in her chair, half hiding a 
yawn with one jewelled hand. 

‘‘Are you tired, Nerea, darling ?” asked Lady Folliott, 
in a tone of solicitude. “ Would you like to retire ?” 

The impostor’s reply was inaudible to the listener, 
the girl sitting too far from the window to permit even 
the prowler’s ears to catch her tones. 

“Very well, dear,” responded the baroness, who sat 
much nearer the window than her young companion 
and whose voice was plainly audible to Caspar Voe. 
“ But I am seriously troubled about you. This pain at 
your heart alarms me. I think you are not quite fit to 
travel up to London. I shall telegraph to Sir Henry 
Graham to come down to us.” 

Again the impostor’s reply was inaudible to Caspar 
Voe, but he could see that she was uttering a vigorous 
protest. 

As the false Miss Bermyngham was feigning a 
malady, it would not answer her purpose to have a 
great London physician summoned to attend her. She 
did not care to risk the exposure of the cheat she was 
practising. 

“ I am sorry, Nerea, that you have so great aversion 
to medical men,” said Lady Folliott, gravely. “ But, if 
you are quite positive that you are steadily growing 
better, and that medicine will not benefit you so much 
as fresh air and sunshine, I am willing to wait until we 
go up to town before we consult Sir Henry. I hope I 
am doing right in thus yielding to you. But we must 
go up to London soon.” 


292 


Beatrix Rohan. 


The false Miss Bermyngham shrugged her shoulders. 
Then, with downcast eyes— the watcher had already 
noticed that she kept her heavy eyelids well down over 
her eyes — she drew nearer to the baroness, sitting 
down upon a hassock at her ladyship’s feet. Her next 
words, like those she had hitherto uttered, were, inaudi- 
ble to the watcher, but they were in truth a shy con- 
fession, given as it had been forced from her, of her 
love for Sir Lionel Charlton. 

“ Oh, Aunt Folliott,” said this astute little actress, 
playing upon the generous soul of the baroness with 
ruthless hands, “ no medical man can help me. I 
thought I was quite recovered from my illness. All I 
wanted was your care and love. But now — the reason 
I am not so well — you know what it is, dear Aunt Fol- 
liott. You surely know what it is !” 

She buried her face in Lady Folliott’s dress. 

“ My dear child,” said the baroness, agitated and per- 
plexed, “ what do you mean ? Is it — is it anxiety about 
Lionel ?” 

The girl nodded her head. 

“ Yes, yes,” she said, and her voice was broken with 
sobs. “ You wanted me to love him. You told me that 
I was to marry him. And so — and so — I love him. And 
I fear he doesn't love me. If he does not, I shall die. 
Aunt Folliott pity me. It is love for Lionel that is 
bringing back my old heart-disease.” 

The effect of this skillful lie was to agonize Lady 
Folliott to the very depths of her being. 

It was she then who had wrought this great trouble. 
Her supposed niece would die of unrequited love for 
Sir Lionel Charlton, all through her — Lady Folliott’s — 
own fault. She grew deathly white, and her eyes 
expressed her anguish and remorse for her own thought- 
lessness. 


The Familiar Voice . 


293 


Leaning forward, she took the girl in her arms and 
kissed her passionately, and shed tears over her. 

“ My darling ! My poor darling !” she exclaimed. 
“ Do not cry so ! All will be well. Lionel admires you 
— loves you. You are to be his wife, Nerea, his loved 
and worshipped wife. Nerea, every sob of yours goes to 
my heart. What have I done, my poor innocent lamb ? 
Cheer up, darling, I will recall Lionel to-morrow. 
Believe in me. I repeat it : all will be well.” 

The impostor conquered her excessive grief, and per- 
mitted Lady Folliott to embrace and caress her in 
remorseful tenderness, and then with the sigh of a 
martyr, she extricated herself from the arms of the 
baroness, and said softly : 

“ Do not blame yourself, dear Aunt Folliott. I would 
not have told you, only to let you know that physicians 
can do me no good. Forget what I have said. Lionel 
must choose for himself. If he prefer Beatrix, I — I am 
not afraid to die !” 

Her mournful air and the two tears she managed to 
drop from beneath her eyelids wrought Lady Folliott's 1 
distress to a climax. Her ladyship arose hurriedly, took 
a hurried walk about the room, and then approaching 
the girl said tremulously : 

“ May God forgive me if I have done wrong, Nerea. 
I meant to bring about this marriage to make both you 
and Lionel happy. He cannot care for Beatrix. He 
must love you. I will go to my room and write to him 
to return immediately.” 

And the baroness hurried away to her own room to 
give expression to her grief and remorse in solitude, 
and to write a letter to Sir Lionel Charlton, informing 
him in as delicate terms as possible of the fact that he 
had won the false Nerea’s heart, and that the girl’s life 
depended upon him, 


294 


Beatrix Rohan . 


“ Heaven knows,” thought the poor lady, in her dis- 
traction, “ that I would screen my child’s secret with 
my life, were it not that her life is involved. Lionel is 
generous as the sun. If he has a preference for Beatrix, 
he will conquer it when he knows this truth. He will 
save Nerea. I know his grand, chivalrous nature. And 
I know too that Nerea will make him happy.” 

While Lady Folliott was thus employed, the false 
Miss Bermyngham, laughing in her sleeve at the clever 
manner in which she had warded off the visit of a 
doctor, and had, at the same time, furthered her 
schemes in regard to the young baronet, sauntered 
towards the window, outside of which the watcher 
lurked. 

He shrank back amid the branches of the shrub which 
screened him. 

“ Shall I speak to her now ?” he asked himself. “ I 
could enter the window. I must ask her about that 
maid — ” 

The girl diverted her course to a bell-pull, which she 
rang violently. 

The watcher held his breath. Had she discovered 
his presence ? A servant appeared. 

“ Bring me some iced sherbet,” said the false Miss 
Bermyngham, in the loud, imperious tone she usually 
employed in speaking to servants. “And be quick 
about it !” 

As the servant retired, Caspar Voe fell back into the 
shrubbery, startled, bewildered, aghast ! 

“ What does this mean ?” he whispered. “ That was 
Miss Bermyngham ? That ? Why, that was the voice 
of Lilias Voe, my fugitive wife, the escaped murderess ! 
What does it mean ?” 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

COMING TO TERMS. 

Caspar Voe, in his concealment outside the drawing- 
room window, remained motionless and stupefied, like 
a man suddenly stricken with paralysis, continuing to 
watch the false Miss Bermyngham with a strange and 
bewildered stare. 

“ It was the voice of that escaped murderess — my 
fugitive wife,” was the thought that shaped itself in his 
confused mind. “ But that is not the face of Lilias Voe. 
Yet I could swear to the voice.” 

Unconscious of the baleful scrutiny of the sinister 
watcher, the pretended India heiress took a turn or 
two across the floor, yawned once or twice, and then 
approached a full-length mirror, and pausing before it, 
surveyed the reflection of her pretty face and figure 
with clearly evident self-admiration. 

She gave a touch with her jeweled fingers to the fluffy 
mass of red-gold hair that fell upon her forehead ; she 
toyed with the long curl that fell over her shoulder ; 
she arranged her black and silver draperies with 
increased effect ; and finally scrutinized her face with 
keen and critical glances. 

“ That is like Lilias, all over !” thought the one-eyed 
watcher. “ She was vain as a peacock. She had that 

[295] 


296 


Beatrix Rohan. 


very trick of admiring- herself before a mirror. I could 
think this Miss Bermyngham Lilias herself, but for the 
impossibility of the thing ! The voice, the walk, the 
actions, all belong to Lilias Voe ! As to the hair and 
complexion, Lilias was an actress and a rare hand at 
making herself up as a blonde. But the costly dress — 
her position here — the fact that the old lady called her 
Nerea — these things go to prove that she is Miss Ber- 
myngham ! My mind is all confused. One thing only 
I am sure of, and that is 1 shall see Miss Bermyngham 
face to face and shall ask her about her maid — ” 

At this moment the false Miss Bermyngham started 
abruptly away from the mirror, and approached the 
window. The next instant the servant re-entered the 
drawing-room, bearing upon a small salver a goblet and 
a small engraved glass jug filled with sherbet. He 
deposited these upon a table and withdrew. 

The girl turned to the table and proceeded to fill the 
goblet with the beverage. Her back was to the win- 
dow. Caspar Voe, by this time master of himself, calm 
and cool as a Bow Street officer, crept nearer to the 
open window, watching her with gleaming eyes. 

“ I must see her !” he said to himself. “ They will 
refuse to admit me at the door. I am filled with 
strange suspicions. Even if the so-called Agatha Wal- 
den be dead, I must hear what Miss Bermyngham can 
tell me about her. And, by Heaven ! I must know 
who Miss Bermyngham is ! Whatever the risk to 
myself, I must hear her speak again !” 

With the quickness and springiness of a cat, he crept 
in at the window. For an instant he lingered in the 
protection of the lace drapery, and then he stole for- 
ward silently over the thick velvet carpet, approaching 
within a few feet of the unconscious heiress. 

She had raised the delicate goblet to her lips and was 


Coming to Terms . 


297 


slowly sipping its contents with apparent pleasure. 
Some rustling sound, some subtle instinct, or it might 
have been the deep yet half-suppressed breathing of 
the intruder, caused her suddenly to turn her head, and 
she beheld Caspar Voe ! 

He stood grim and strange and terrible, his one eye 
savage, lurid, and with a mocking glare in it ; his 
seamed and scarred visage glowing with suspicion, 
eagerness and doubt ; his ugly mouth wearing an odd 
smile half of wicked delight, half of incredulousness. 

The goblet fell from the hand of the pretended heir- 
ess and was shattered upon the marble-topped table. 

The girl herself, her painted visage showing no 
change, but her black eyes dilating in horror, sprang 
backwards with an inarticulate cry, upraising her hands 
as if to ward off an attack ! 

Caspar Voe looked full into her black eyes, so strik- 
ingly in contrast to her blonde hair and complexion, 
and his face glowed with savage jubilance. 

He took a step nearer to her. She recoiled, her 
hands still upraised, her eyes expressing her cowardly 
terror. 

Caspar Voe smiled an odd, baleful smile. 

“ Have I the honor of addressing Miss Bermyngham ?” 
he asked, in a sibilant voice. 

The girl breathed hard. She did not answer, but 
nodded her head and took another backward step. 

“ You will pardon my intrusion I trust, Miss Bermyng- 
ham, ” said Caspar Voe, with horrible politeness, his glar- 
ing eye seeming to devour her face feature by feature. 
“ I am sorry to enter unannounced, but you declined to 
see me, you know, and the hall-porter would not be apt 
to admit a man of my appearance a second time, so I 
came in at the window.” 

The girl gave a sudden spring backward to the wall 


Beatrix Rohan . 


298 


and clutched at the bell-rope. With her disengaged 
hand she pointed to the window. 

“ You offer me a chance of escape,” said Voe, coolly, 
“ and if I don’t accept it you’ll ring and have me thrust 
forth by the servants. You are good at dumb show. 
One would almost think you had played in the 
pantomime. But I shall not go, my lady, until I have 
had speech with you. If you ring and have me thrust 
forth, I shall demand to see Lady Folliott. They say 
that she sees every one who comes to her.” 

His tone was full of deadly menace. The girl’s hand 
still grasped the bell-rope, but she did not dare to 
pull it. 

In truth, her soul was the battle-ground of furious 
emotions in that moment. Sick with terror, affrighted 
to the depths of her cowardly nature, she yet felt the 
impulse to act with a semblance of bravery, to do as 
she would have done were she really and truly Miss 
Bermyngham — to call for help, to have this intruder 
cast out as a burglar and thief, to carry her part with a 
high hand, to brave out the affair, in short. 

But while capable of treacheries and crimes, while 
secret and false and wicked, she was not capable of act- 
ing upon this impulse and braving out the affair. She 
knew herself guilty, and, actress as she was, she had not 
courage to arouse the household, and conduct herself 
as an innocent woman would have done. She knew 
Caspar Voe, and knew him for a relentless enemy — vin- 
dictive, terrible, and not to be thwarted. He might 
have fathomed her identity. He might have officers 
of the law outside waiting his summons. She knew 
that her disguise would have effectually hidden her 
identity from the eyes of Love. Even the most devoted 
lover who had known her in her original estate, would 
never suspect her under her character of the rich Miss 


Comhig to Terms. 


299 


Bermyngham. But the eyes of Love are less keen than 
the eyes of Hate ! Did Caspar Voe know her under 
all this paint and yellow hair-dye, and silken robes and 
glittering jewels ? 

Her glance involuntarily sought a convenient mirror. 
And at the sight of the pretty blonde picture she beheld, 
her courage revived a little. Looking at her enemy 
through the thick fringes of her eyelids, she said, in a 
hoarse whisper, utterly unlike her usual tones : 

“ Who are you ? What do you want ? How dare you 
enter this house in this manner ? Are you a burglar ?” 

Caspar Voe smiled again, and at that smile the girl 
shuddered. 

“ Who am I ?” he repeated. “ My name is Caspar 
Voe. What do I want ? I have certain questions to 
ask you which you must answer. How dare I enter 
this house in this manner ? Why, I have explained that 
I could not otherwise have seen you. I heard your 
voice through the open window, and it reminded me of 
a certain voice I once knew — a voice that once seemed 
to me, despite its shrillness, very sweet and pleasant." 

The girl trembled visibly. She sat down uncon- 
sciously in a chair, still clinging to the bell-rope, which 
yet she dared not pull. 

“ I will tell you my story,” said Caspar Voe, standing 
up before her, grim, mocking, and awful in his sinister 
triumph. “ I have said that my name is Caspar Voe. 
I am just arrived from India. I am in pursuit of a 
fugitive murderess — a young woman, with your 
eyes and voice, my lady, but with dark complexion 
and black hair. Her real name is Lilias Voe. I have 
reason to think that she made her escape from India 
under the assumed name of Agatha Walden, and in the 
character of a lady’s maid to an orphaned heiress, Miss 
Bermynham. I traced the two, mistress and maid, to 


300 


Beatrix Rohan . 


England. Having ascertained of Miss Bermyngham’s 
former waiting-woman in Calcutta the destination of 
her young mistress in England, I came on directly to 
Folliott Court without pausing in London. It so hap- 
pened that I heard nothing therefore in London of 
Agatha Walden’s death. Is the girl who came to Eng- 
land under the name of Agatha Walden dead ?” 

“ Yes,” said the false Miss Bermyngham, still in a 
whisper. “ She is dead and buried.” 

“Are you Miss Bermyngham ?” 

The girl nodded. She tried to bow haughtily, but the 
motion of her head was feeble and dejected. 

“ Did you know the history of this self-styled Agatha 
Walden?” asked Voe, continuing to watch his prey with 
a glittering, evil eye. 

“ No — no ! How should I know ? She brought good 
references, which I had not time to verify,” said the 
pretended heiress, still in that hoarse whisper, wonder- 
ing how much her visitor suspected concerning her 
identity, and so wrought up with excitement that she 
longed to give utterance to a wild shriek, or take 
refuge in a fit of hysterics. 

“ Shall I tell you her history ?” asked Voe. “ She is 
no taller than you, my lady, a mere girl still in years, 
but old in wickedness. She is English-born. She is 
my wife. When I first saw her she was a girl of 
twenty, a variety actress in Calcutta, a pretty brunette, 
rather a favorite with a certain coarse crowd, and the 
recipient of many gifts from her admirers. It was a 
feverish, bad life for a girl of her temperament. I fell 
in love with her, and after three months’ acquaintance 
we were married. I earned a precarious living, and 
she continued on the boards. We were poor, of course, 
but for a year we were happy. I adored my wife ; I 
believe that she loved me. But a change came over 


Coming to Terms. 


301 


the spirit of our dream. She grew tired of me. She 
was of a fickle nature. She missed the admirers who 
fell away after the fact of her marriage became known. 
She became fretful, cross, and ugly in her temper. 
She reviled me for my poverty and idleness. And hell 
succeeded to heaven in our domestic life !” 

“ What is all this to me ?” said the false Miss Ber- 
myngham, hoarsely, plucking up courage. “ My maid 
is dead. Whatever her faults, they died with her !” 

The thick, ugly lips of Caspar Voe again wore that 
smile that made the pretended heiress tremble. 

“ Let me tell you the rest,” he said. “ I was not a 
good man, but she, my wife, was a demon ! she might 
have made me better, but her bitter words stung me to 
badness. I became utterly idle and took to drink. 
We were supported by her earnings. At last our child 
was born, but the little one only made matters worse. 
It was neglected by us both, and became cross and 
sickly. Lilias seemed to hate it. She was very fond 
of dress and spent the greater portion of her salary 
upon her wardrobe. She was very vain, vain as she 
was fickle. Matters grew worse with us. Lilias 
became a singer and actress in a music hall. I got 
work now and then, but continued to drink heavily. 
As God is my judge, if my wife had treated me 
decently and made a home for me, I would have been 
a good husband to her, an industrious, sober man. But 
other men’s flatteries were ’sweeter to her than her 
husband’s commendations !” 

The false Miss Bermyngham’s lips curled in a sneer. 

Seeming not to notice the expression of her face, 
Voe continued : 

“ Our child was two years old when the end came. 
Poor little fellow ! I grew to love him dearly during 
the last year of his little life. One night I went home 


302 


Beatrix Rohan. 


early. I had been drinking a little, but I was not 
drunk. I took my child in my arms and cried over 
him. Lilias had not returned from the music-hall. 
She never suffered me to go for her in these days. I 
waited for her return, but she did not come. Midnight 
passed. I was nearly wild with anxiety. I resolved to 
go for her. I said to myself that I would be a better 
husband to her in the future. I would throw myself 
at her feet and implore her pardon. We would begin 
anew. God knows that I was full of anguish and 
repentance that night. It might have been a turning 
point in our lives. I waited, expecting her every 
moment. I knew that the music-hall must long since 
have been closed. Where could she be ? Where could 
I go to look for her? I put up my window, and 
watched the street. At last I saw her coming. She 
was attended by a man whom I hated — a gambler, a 
roue, a thoroughly bad character. They paused under 
the lamp in front of our door. I saw them part with 
kisses. When Lilias came up, I was mad with jealousy. 
A frightful scene followed. She was beside herself 
with fury. A couple of hours later, I crept into bed, 
and toward morning I fell into a troubled sleep.” 

“ Well ?” said the false Miss Bermyngham, but her 
voice was tremulous and her eyes downcast. 

“ The end came that night. While I was sleeping, 
all the wickedness of that woman’s nature burst its 
bonds and overflowed in one great awful crime ! She 
had been wrought up to an insane fury. And when 
we were sleeping, the child and I, she bound my arms 
to my side with cords and caught up a carving-knife 
and crept towards me and attacked me with frenzy. 
She stabbed my face and breast a score of times. I 
was bound and helpless, and soon became unconscious 
under her attack. She left me for dead. Then she 
| 


Coming to Terms . 


303 


stabbed the little helpless, sleeping child and killed 
him. And then she fled the house.” 

The false Miss Bermyngham shaded her face with 
her hand. 

“ I was found by a fellow-lodger who chanced to call 
early in the morning. They thought me dead. Indeed, 
my death was announced in the newspapers. I was 
weeks in regaining sufficient strength to leave the house. 
The newpapers had printed great headlines, such as, 
* Awful crime ! Murder of a husband and child by an 
actress !’ and my wife must have believed me dead. 
The poor little child was buried in a pauper’s grave. 
The police searched for Lilias everywhere. When I 
got well, I set myself to examining the lists of depart- 
ures by steamers. I knew that she was a coward and 
would flee the country. I examined into the history of 
every passenger of whatever rank or position. Every 
person, however humble, seemed to have been known ; 
every person excepting Miss Bermyngham ’s maid, 
Agatha Walden. I went to Miss Bermyngham ’s former 
nurse and waiting-woman and made inquiries. She 
described Agatha Walden, and informed me that she 
had given good references, which Miss Bermyngham 
had, through haste or carelessness, not verified. The 
woman remembered the names given as references. 
They were names of veritable people. I called upon 
them. They had never even heard of Agatha Walden. 
There was deceit and trickery to begin with. Agatha 
Walden was not what she had pretended to be. The 
conviction came upon me that she was Lilias Voe and 
none other. I determined to follow her to England and 
worked my passage here. I had sworn an awful oath 
to be revenged upon her. I had sworn to see her die 
upon the scaffold. I had sworn to find her if she was 
above ground. Murderess ! She shall suffer for her 


304 


Beatrix Rohan . 


crimes ! Unnatural mother ! false, bad wife, your 
judgment hour approaches ! I am come !” 

He folded his arms and stood before the cowering 
woman, an incarnate Hatred and Revenge. 

“ Do you see this hideous face of mine ?” he said, with 
a bitter laugh. “ I owe it to her. The very dogs bark 
at me in the streets. I am an outcast, living only for 
vengeance. Yet I was a gentleman’s son ; I had a 
kindly nature once ; I might have been a gentleman 
to-day in position but for her. These scars on my face, 
my lost eye — she gouged it from its socket in her mad 
rage — my murdered boy — all — all cry for vengeance ! I 
am come to take it !” 

“ You are mad !” cried the false Miss Bermyngham, 
in terror. “ Stand back ! I will ring for help — ” 

“ Stop !” demanded Caspar Voe. “ Woman, do you 
think your shallow pretences, your hair-dye, your paint, 
and your assumed character, have deceived me ? I have 
been playing with you, as a cat plays with a mouse. / 
know you !* 

The pretended India heiress gave a quick, wild gasp 
for breath. 

“ I know you /” repeated her enemy, with evil jubilance. 
“ I have seen you made up as a blonde many a time, you 
know, for pieces on the stage ! What have you done 
with Miss Bermyngham ? Did you kill her, too ?” 

The girl cast a desperate look around her, and at the 
pitiless face and glaring eyes of her enemy. There was 
no escape for her. She was discovered. Despite her 
disguise, she stood revealed as Lilias Voe, the murderess, 
the fugitive from justice, the base adventuress, the 
wicked and treacherous woman ! 

She yielded to fate. She resolved to temporize with 
this man. It would be useless to deny her identity. 
And so, while her busy brain plotted some way of evad- 


Coming to Terms . 


305 


ing public exposure and a shameful death, she said 
sullenly : 

“ No, I did not kill her. She died of heart disease.” 

“ And you passed her off as Agatha Walden ? You 
changed identities with her ?” 

The girl bowed assent. 

The man reflected. 

“ You succeeded to Miss Bermyngham’s possessions ?" 
he said presently, in a low voice. “ You have full con- 
trol of all her vast wealth !” 

“ Full control.” 

The pair watched each other for a full minute in a 
dead silence. 

The man was desperately poor. He hated work. 
He had but a few shillings in his pocket. He knew no 
trade or profession. He had a love of idleness and lux- 
ury, even as his wife had. She had money at her com- 
mand in almost unlimited amount. He thirsted for her 
blood. Not all the money in the world could have in- 
duced him to forego his revenge upon her. But he was 
wily also. He asked himself why he should not secure 
some of the wealth under her control before betraying 
her ? Why not compel her to make over to him a pecu- 
niary independence before delivering her up to the offi- 
cers of the law ? 

The woman read his thoughts as readily as if they 
had been printed on paper. She comprehended his 
meditated treachery, but she was also treacherous. 

“ I would pay any price for safety,” she said, in a 
whisper. “The Bermyngham property is carefully 
invested in consols and securities completely under my 
control. Suppose you give me up to the hangman ? 
You will have your revenge, it is true, but you will be 
poor, you will have to earn every crust you eat. But if 
you agree never to molest or betray me, I will bind 


3°6 


Beatrix Rohan. 


myself to pay you ten thousand pounds a year so long 
as I am unmolested.” 

“ Ten thousand pounds !” The man’s features 
worked. 

“ I will give you a cheque for ten thousand pounds 
this very hour,” said the woman. 

“ I want no cheques. Would the bankers pass any 
such sum to me, do you think, with this face, this 
dress ?” said the man, curtly. “ You must give me 
money.” 

“ I will telegraph to London to have ten thousand 
pounds in notes and gold sent up to me by special mes- 
senger,” said the false Miss Bermyngham, after a mo- 
ment’s thought. “ Upon the evening of the day after 
to-morrow I will engage to pay the amount I have 
named into your hands.” 

Voe deliberated. 

“ I must have more than that,” he said, greedily. 
“ You must bring me some of your — her — jewels, too. 
Bring all you have, or it will be the worse for you !” 

“ You agree then to leave me alone ? You will not 
betray me ?” 

4< I agree ! Bring me ten thousand pounds in notes 
and gold and all your jewels, and you shall go un- 
harmed. I will leave you rope enough to hang your- 
self. But don’t attempt any tricks on me. The money 
and jewels — or a disgraceful death ! These are your 
alternatives !” 

“ Where am I to find you at the time appointed? 
We must not be seen. We will meet in Folliott Park 
— in the great open space by the fountain. You can 
find out the place for yourself between now and then. 
And now go. Some one may enter. If you are found 
here, all is lost.” 

Caspar Voe turned and withdrew as he had entered 


Betrothed. 


307 


the room, without another word. Outside he paused in 
the shrubbery, and looking back, muttered : 

“ I’ll take her money and jewels and secrete them in 
some safe place. They will provide handsomely for me 
in some other land where I can live as pleases me. 
And, having secreted the plunder so that it cannot be 
taken from me, I will betray her remorselessly, and 
watch her to the very scaffold ! Within a week she 
shall be in jail on the charge of murder !” 

He strode away into the darkness, all aglow with sin- 
ister delight. 

Meanwhile, the girl crept to the doors and to the con- 
servatory, and made sure that no listener had been 
near during her conversation with Caspar Voe. Then 
she sat down utterly strengthless, yet with her mind 
full of bold schemes. 

“ He means to take my money and jewels, and betray 
me," she thought. “ He will leave me in safety a day 
or two, and then have me arrested. Flight is impos- 
sible. He or I must die ! I will meet him in the park 
— oh, I’ll be there. But he will not leave the park alive. 
But how is his death to be accomplished ? How am I 
to remove him from my path ?" 


CHAPTER XXXII. 

BETROTHED. 

We will now resume our narration of the experiences 
of Beatrix, whom we left comfortably established in the 
cottage of Miss McTavish, near the city of Durham. 
The fugitive heiress found in the Scottish spinster a 


Beatrix Rohan. 


30S 


hospitable hostess and sympathizing friend. Life at 
Bruce Cottage was dull and monotonous, but there was 
a flower-garden and lawn, pleasant walks, rows on the 
river, drives in a pony-phaeton, books to read, and a 
piano ; and Beatrix was more than content. She was 
like sunshine in the house, her hostess frequently 
assured her. 

In the course of a week her boxes arrived from Lon- 
don, whither Lady Folliott had sent them, and Beatrix 
began to feel settled in her new home. 

The days glided by without event. Letters came 
often from Lady Folliott, who, despite her opposition to 
a marriage between Beatrix and Sir Lionel Charlton, 
was yet tenderly attached to the young heiress. No let- 
ters came from the baronet, but Beatrix did not expect 
any. She believed that Sir Lionel was to marry the 
false Miss Bermyngham, and endeavored to avoid even 
thinking of him. 

While her days were spent thus tranquilly, Colonel 
Brand was leaving no stone unturned to discover her. 

His wife and son seconded his efforts, assisting him 
ably. They searched London for her in vain. They 
advertised for her, offering a reward for information 
leading to her discovery. They employed assistants in 
their search, but they only knew that Beatrix had set 
out, after her departure from Folliott Court, with an 
attendant, with tickets for London, and that she had 
disappeared somewhere upon the route, but at what 
point she had disappeared remained a mystery. 

Colonel Brand grew furious. It would have fared 
hard with Beatrix if he could have found her after his 
long and vain search for her. 

When his patience, however, had become quite 
exhausted, and his naturally irritable temper absolutely 
savage, there arrived one day addressed to him a letter, 


Betrothed. 


309 


the handwriting of which he recognized as that of “ Anil 
Jones.” 

Tearing it open, he read these words : 

“ Miss Beatrix Rohan, care of Miss Marcell, 44 Cra- 
venhill Street, Notting Hill, London, W.” 

Besides this address, there was not a word. 

“ It seems to have been transcribed from some letter !” 
the colonel said to his fellow-conspirators. “ Come, 
Selina. We will go to Miss Marcell’s at once. You 
must do the maternal and afflicted. The girl is prob- 
ably there. We shall bring her away with us.” 

They hastened to Cravenhill Street, dotting Hill, in 
a cab, and found Miss Marcell at home. 

She was an elderly lady, a gentlewoman, one of Lady 
Folliott’s numerous pensioners. To all their inquiries, 
she remained absolutely dumb. She was icily polite, 
but it was quite evident that she had been warned 
against them and put upon her guard, and all Mrs. 
Brand’s pretended grief and prayerful entreaties were 
wasted upon her. Colonel Brand essayed different tac- 
tics. He became warlike, blustered and threatened, and: 
spoke of the majesty of the law, but Miss Marcell only 
smiled, and finally said : 

“ Miss Rohan is not in my house, sir. She has never 
been here. As to her whereabouts, I decline to inform 
you. You will oblige me by taking your instant depart- 
ure.” 

As it was evident that Miss Marcell told the truth — 
that Beatrix was not an inmate of the house — and as 
nothing was to be gained by remaining, Colonel and 
Mrs. Brand took their departure, Miss Marcell seeing 
them to the door herself. 

As they returned to their lodgings in their cab, Mrs. 
Brand remarked ; 


3io 


Beatrix Rohan. 


“ Did you notice, Colonel, that Miss Marcell did not 
summon her servant to see us out ? Depend upon it, 
the maid who admitted us knows where Beatrix is. We 
must communicate with the maid, bribe her, and pump 
out of her what information she possesses." 

“ Very good, although it seems easier said than done. 
I’ll try it however." 

He did try it. He returned to Notting Hill at a later 
hour that same day, and lounged about Cravenhill Street. 
He saw the housemaid at number forty-four at the gate 
once or twice, but he dared not approach the house. 

The next day he was more fortunate. As he alighted 
from his cab in the neighborhood, he beheld the house- 
maid emerging from the gate of Miss Marcell’s resi- 
dence. She approached him and he waited for her. 
When she came up, he accosted her respectfully, 
told her his story, she stopped to listen, and finally he 
offered her five golden sovereigns, with a compliment 
upon her bright face. 

“ And what do you want for this money, sir ?’’ the girl 
asked, saucily, turning the coins over in her hands. 

“ I want you to tell me where my niece, Miss Rohan, 
is,” said Colonel Brand. “ Come, you know where she 
is. Is she in London ? What street ? What number ?’’ 

“ That I couldn’t say," replied the girl, coolly. “ If I 
know, it’s because I’ve been trusted, and I am not one 
to betray a trust, if I am a poor servant. Take your 
money, sir. And if all we hear be true, you’re like to 
need it one of these fine days. You won’t be finding 
Miss Rohan, not from my telling !’’ 

And tossing the money into the gutter, as if sove- 
reigns were as pebbles in her eyes, the girl walked on, 
humming a tune. 

Colonel Brand chocked with rage. He ordered his 


Betrothed. 


3 1 1 


cabman to pick up the money, pocketed it, and returned 
to his lodgings. 

The following week was spent in fruitless wanderings 
about the street and in watching Miss Marcell’s house. 

The week after brought new life to the conspirators, 
for it brought another letter from the mysterious “ Ann 
Jones.” 

It had been written by the false Miss Bermyngham 
upon the very day after her memorable interview with 
Caspar Voe. She had not been too absorbed in plans 
to avert her own ruin to forget her rival, the lovely 
Beatrix. It happened upon that morning that Lady 
Folliott had shown her a letter from Beatrix, with date 
and address affixed, and even in the midst of her own 
anxieties and troubles, the impostor had found time, 
opportunity, and inclination to write a letter to Colonel 
Brand, which she herself posted at Spalding, whither 
she went to send her telegraph to her bankers in 
London. 

This letter contained simply the address : 

“ Miss Beatrix Rohan, residing with Miss McTavish, 
Bruce Cottage, Durham.” 

The conspirators exulted over this great good for- 
tune. 

“ Our mysterious ‘Ann Jones’ is an active friend,” 
said Mrs. Brand. “She is a lady, although the hand- 
writing looks like that of an ignorant person. Depend 
upon it, Colonel, this ‘ Ann Jones ’ is Miss Bermyngham 
and she hates Beatrix because Sir Lionel Charlton is in 
love with Beatrix.” 

Colonel and Mrs. Brand, accompanied by their effi- 
cient son, took the night-mail train for the north. 

We have thus briefly summarized the proceedings of 


312 


Beatrix Rohan. 


the Brands during the weeks of Beatrix’s quiet sojourn 
at Bruce Cottage. 

Upon the very day, however, in which the Brands 
received the false Miss Bermyngham’s letter of betrayal, 
the monotony of Beatrix’s existence was broken by a 
visit from Sir Lionel Charlton. 

It will be remembered that the baronet had given 
Lady Folliott a promise that he would not avow his 
love for Beatrix to its object for an entire month. 
That month of probation had expired upon the day of 
his departure from Folliott Court. All the soft allure- 
ments, the pretty affectations, the little wiles of the 
false Miss Bermyngham had been wasted upon him. He 
loved Beatrix with all his heart and soul. Besides her 
all other women seemed tame and spiritless. And he 
had come to Durham to beg Beatrix to become his 
wife. With her marriage, all the persecutions of her 
relatives would cease forever. She would nevermore 
be fugitive. He loved her deeply, passionately, devo- 
tedly. But all great love is tinctured with humility, 
and he had come to risk his fate in fear and trembling 
lest Beatrix should not be able to return his love. 

He was rowed from Durham in a boat, and alighted 
at the foot of the garden and came up the box-bordered, 
tree-shaded path slowly, his heart beating fast. 

In the midst of the garden was a great sycamore tree 
and a rustic bench stood under it. The hour was early 
evening, the daylight still lingered and Beatrix 
wrapped in a white Shetland shawl, sat upon the bench, 
absorbed in her own thoughts. 

She had not heard Sir Lionel’s approach, and did not 
see him until he stood before her. 

Then she rose up, with a little glad cry, and her 
flushing face and glowing eyes brought joy to his 
heart. 


Betrothed \ 


313 


“ You are glad to see me, Miss Rohan — Beatrix ?” he 
exclaimed. “ How well you are looking !” 

He took both her hands in his, pressing them 
warmly. 

“ How did you leave Lady Folliott ?” asked Beatrix, 
somewhat shyly. 

“ She is almost well again. She was quite iil with 
nervous fever, but drives out daily now.” 

“And Miss Bermyngham ?” 

“ Is well, I believe. I am come up here to tell you 
something of great importance, Beatrix,” said Sir 
Lionel, gravely — “ at least it is of the utmost import- 
ance to me — ” 

“ Colonel Brand has not found out where I am ?” 
cried Beatrix. “You are not come to warn me — to take 
me away ?” 

“ I do my errand very awkwardly, I fear. No, the 
Brands have not discovered your refuge, Beatrix,” said 
Sir Lionel, gently. “ I am come here to ask you to give 
me the right to protect you from them always. Beatrix, 
from the hour I first saw you I have loved you. I am 
precipitate in my avowal, abrupt, rash even. Perhaps 
you do not know me well enough yet. Perhaps you 
cannot love me ; but I love you, Beatrix, darling. Will 
you be my wife ?” 

The proposal thus made was not all after the plan 
Sir Lionel had intended. He had mediated a tender, 
loving appeal to her, a lengthened declaration of his 
sentiments, but after his gentle beginning the words 
had come from his lips in a passionate outburst, and he 
had seized the girl’s hand and poured forth his heart in 
the briefest possible terms. 

Beatrix grew pale and tried to withdraw her hand. 

“ Miss Bermyngham ?” she said faintly. 

“ Is nothing to me. I am nothing to her. Beatrix — ” 


3 T 4 


Beatrix Rohan. 


“ But Lady Folliott?” faltered Beatrix. 

“ My aunt loves you, Beatrix. She will gladly wel- 
come you as her niece. I will not deny that she had 
made different plans for me, but she is too sensible to 
endeavor to thwart my happiness. I will promise you 
a loving welcome from her. Tell me, Beatrix, can you 
return my love ?” 

We need not record Beatrix’s answer. 

She did love Sir Lionel, and the happy young pair 
lingered late in the garden, until Miss McTavish came 
out in search of Beatrix. 

Sir Lionel informed their hostess of his betrothal, 
and received her congratulations. 

“ I intend to take my bride away with me,” he said. 
“ I shall not feel safe to leave her here longer. Who 
knows at what hour her enemies may discover her ?” 

“ I am quite safe here, Lionel,” said Beatrix. “ And 
I cannot marry you until you have won Lady Folliott’s 
consent to our union. Go to her to-morrow and tell her 
all, and if she consents then come for me.” 

“ Beatrix is right,” said Miss McTavish. “ It would 
be treacherous to Lady Folliott to marry without her 
knowledge !” 

Sir Lionel was forced to yield to Beatrix and her pro- 
tectess. 

“ I will go back to Folliott Court by the first train,” 
he said. “ I will return for you in a week, Beatrix. 
Guard her very carefully, Miss McTavish. I have a 
strange misgiving. I fear something may happen to 
wrest my treasure from me.” 

A little later, he returned to Durham, and took the 
first train for the southward. 

And the next day, the Brands, father, mother, and 
son, like bloodhounds on the trail, arrived in Durham. 
They had tracked their prey to her refuge ! 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

STILL SEEKING REST AND REFUGE. 

Sir Lionel Charlton, in the ardor of his passionate 
love for Beatrix, and in the gloom of their speedy sepa- 
ration after their betrothal, had expressed a misgiving 
in regard to the girl’s future. A sudden gloom, and 
inexplicable forboding, swift and dark as a moving 
shadow, had swept over his spirit and had vanished. 
But no warning of the danger menacing her obscured 
the new-found happiness of Beatrix for a single instant. 

The night that followed Sir Lionel’s brief visit to 
her was radiant with happy thoughts and dreams. The 
next morning, Beatrix came down to breakfast, her 
dusk-gray eyes softly luminous, her pure and noble face 
softly flushed, her beauty and loveliness having a 
sweeter, tenderer character than usual. Miss McTavish 
regarded her with admiration, and sighed, perhaps with 
a retrospective thought of her own lost youth. 

They sat down together at the small round table in 
the pretty dining-room. Miss McTavish talked of Sir 
Lionel, of Lady Folliott, and of Beatrix’s prospects, in 
the frequent absences of the serving-woman, and during 
the attendant’s presence was equally garrulous upon 
the subject of the garden, the flowers, her fancy-work, 

05 ] 



3 l6 


Beatrix Rohan. 


and similar trifles which yet make up the sum and sub- 
stance of the lonely spinster’s daily life. 

After breakfast, when Miss McTavish had washed 
her old-fashioned pink china and her ancient silver 
service with her own hands, Beatrix assisting her, and 
had placed them carefully in the little three-cornered 
cupboard, with its glass door, in the dining-room, the 
pair went out into the garden, strolling down the grassy 
path, as was their morning custom. 

“ I have green gooseberry jam to make this morning, 
in the cool of the day, you know,” said Miss McTavish, 
reflectively. “ I will trust no one but myself to manu- 
facture my sweetmeats. Then I shall weed my flowers. 
They begin to need attention. This afternoon I shall 
finish my point-lace antimacassar. I intended that as a 
gift for Lady Folliott, but I can make her another, and 
I should like to give this to you, my dear, for a bridal 
present. But I lack some point-lace braid. Beatrix, 
dear, you are so fond of the open air, would you kindly 
allow Sanders to drive you to Durham in the pony- 
chaise, and you will match my braid ?” 

“ Certainly,” assented Beatrix. “ I shall be glad to 
go.” 

“ You are so obliging always, my dear,” said the old 
lady, in a chirruping way. “ If you will also exchange 
my book at the circulating library, I shall be indebted 
to you. It is after nine o’clock. I’ll order the pony- 
chaise immediately.” 

She hastened to do so. 

Beatrix retired to her own room, and exchanged her 
pretty white morning dress, with its ruffles and frills, 
for a black silk walking-costume. A black straw hat, 
trimmed with black velvet and white daisies, black 
gloves, and a blue vail, completed her attire. 

She put her purse in her pocket, for she had a few 


Still Seeking Rest and Refuge . 


3i7 


purchases to make for herself, gave a last glance about 
the small, chintz-draped chamber, and ran lightly down 
the stairs. 

The pony-chaise was waiting, and Sanders, the gar- 
dener, gate-keeper, footman, coachman, and general 
factotum of the modest little establishment, was in 
waiting, clad in faded livery, but carrying himself as 
became a retainer of the ancient family of McTavish. He 
helped Beatrix into the chaise, handed her the reins, and 
mounted to his seat behind her, where he sat with folded 
arms, as straight and immovable as a graven image. 

Beatrix thoroughly enjoyed her drive to Durham. 
Entering the picturesque town, she skilfully guided her 
homely little cob through the streets, and drew up at 
last before a shop whose chief interest to her was that 
it combined a circulating library with its legitimate 
trade in fancy goods. 

Miss McTavish, who was devotedly fond of reading, 
had given an order for a particular and special work, in 
three volumes, and nearly half-an-hour was consumed 
in finding it, and in executing other commissions at the 
same establishment. 

The point-lace was difficult to match, and required 
considerable shopping. Beatrix drove from place to 
place, but finally succeeded in obtaining what was re- 
quired. 

The shop-woman at the Ladies’ Repository at which 
Beatrix’s purchase was made proceeded to do up the 
small parcel with considerable painstaking. Beatrix 
moved to the door and looked out upon the busy street. 
People were moving past upon the sidewalks ; cabs 
and other vehicles were hurrying over the pavement. 
She watched them idly. But suddenly she grew pale 
as death and drew back from the door, catching her 
breath after the manner of a drowning person. 


Beatrix Rohan. 


3i8 


She had beheld in a slowly passing cab the faces of 
Colonel Brand and Randall Brand ! 

She could not be mistaken. The glass in the cab- 
window was lowered, and Colonel Brand had protruded 
his head through the opening thus afforded and was 
hailing his cabman in an angry voice. 

The Brands had not seen her. That she knew at 
once. She watched her false guardian with a fasci- 
nated gaze. Apparently satisfied with the response of 
the cabman, Colonel Brand withdrew®his head into the 
vehicle, and Mrs. Brand was seen leaning forward and 
looking from the open window. They had come in 
force. They were all here. They had tracked their 
hapless quarry to her refuge ! 

Beatrix turned cold and faint all in an instant. The 
instinct of flight came upon her with almost irresistible 
strength. She was tempted to rush out into the streets 
to hasten to the station, and set out again upon her 
journeyings, but for the moment her physical weakness 
held her powerless. 

But she had learned self-control in a hard and bitter 
school. Her experiences at the Chateau Valbeck in 
Belgium, at the quaint old Flemish inn at Antwerp, at 
the Hotel de Flandre at Brussels, at the lodging-house 
in London, at Folliott Court, and afterward, had not 
been without stern and useful fruit. She had learned 
a thorough self-reliance, presence of mind in emergen- 
cies, and a firmness and resoluteness that would have 
befitted one of twice her years. 

And so, although for the brief space of time we have 
mentioned she was faint, trembling and frightened, no 
sooner had the cab containing her enemies passed 
beyond her sight than she became herself again. 

A moment’s keen thought sufficed for her plan of 
action. 


Still Seeking Rest and Refuge . 319 


She remembered having- seen a portmanteau upon 
the cab. Evidently, the Brands were just arrived. 
They would probably proceed first of all to a hotel, pro- 
cure breakfast, make inquiries concerning Miss McTav- 
ish, and set out for Bruce Cottage an hour or two hence. 

There might be a brief respite for the hunted girl. 

“ In an hour or two I can surely effect my escape,” she 
thought. “ I have to deal with human bloodhounds. I 
must be ‘ wise as a serpent.' Now what am I to do ?” 

Her parcel was ready for her. She approached the 
counter, still startlingly pale, but calm and self-pos- 
sessed, and asked for a sheet of paper and an envelope. 
They were furnished her. Withdrawing to a corner, 
she dashed off a note in the most hurried manner, 
addressing Miss McTavish, and informing her that the 
Brands had tracked her out, that she dared not return 
to Bruce Cottage, and begging Miss McTavish to detain 
them as long as possible from pursuit. 

The shop- woman found a trustworthy messenger for 
her, and she gave the letter into his possession, adjur- 
ing him to proceed with all speed to Bruce Cottage and 
deliver the letter into Miss McTavish's own hands. A 
half-sovereign ensured her messenger’s best speed and 
fidelity, and he set out upon his errand at a run. 

Beatrix went out to her pony-chaise quietly and took 
her seat. Sanders ascended to his. Beatrix drew her 
vail over her face and drove quietly onward out of the 
town, gaining a pleasant country road to the northward 
of Durham. 

“This is not the way home, Miss,” said Sanders, 
respectfully. 

“ I know it isn’t, Sanders,” replied the young lady, 
quietly. “ To what place does this road lead ?” 

“ Why, to North Abbey, ten miles away, but there are 
hamlets between, Miss.” 


320 


Beatrix Rohan . 


“ Is North Abbey a railway station ?” 

Sanders replied in the affirmative. 

“ Then I’ll, drive there,” said Beatrix. “ Sanders, you 
are a trusted old family servant, and Miss McTavish 
has told you something of my history and bidden you 
to be on your guard against any strangers who might 
come to the cottage. The evil she feared has fallen. 
My enemies are in Durham !” 

“ Lord save us, Miss — ” 

“ They have tracked me out,” said Beatrix, calmly. 
“ Nothing remains to me but flight. I escaped them 
before ; I can escape them again. No doubt they will 
watch the Durham railway station. One of the Brands 
will be on guard, with an assistant, doubtless, while the 
others go to Bruce Cottage. I shall be at North Abbey, 
if all goes well, before they arrive at the cottage. I 
have put Miss McTavish on her guard, and I think she 
can hold them from pursuit for two or three hours at 
least. By that time I can have attained comparative 
safety.” 

“ What a speeshal Providence it was that you hap- 
pened to see them this morning !” cried Sanders, 
piously. “ The Lord watches over his ain, Miss ; you 
can see that. And now ye’re going to yer ain freends, 
eh, Miss ?” 

“ I do not yet know where I shall go. That will all 
come afterwards. All I can think of now is to get away 
beyond their reach. I know that I can trust you, San- 
ders. Miss McTavish has told me long stories of your 
fidelity and devotion to her.” 

“ You can trust me, Miss. I would die before yer 
enemies should get a word of information out of my 
mouth ?” cried Sanders, earnestly. “ Touch up the cob, 
Miss. He’s got the go in him. Let me lay on the 


Still See Icing Rest and Refuge . 321 


whip. We’ll catch the up-express train from North 
Abbey as sure as we’re living.” 

Sanders seized the whip and “ touched up,” the cob, 
which gave a bound forward and developed -ft capacity 
for rapid movement, which, considering his stocky 
form, was simply astonishing. The road was good. 
The chaise was wheeled onward briskly, and Beatrix, 
calm and hopeful, held the reins with steady hands. 

They arrived at North Abbey in about an hour and a- 
half after leaving Durham. The noon-express was on 
the point of departure. Beatrix had only time to slip a 
few gold pieces into Sanders’ hands, to bid him a hasty 
good-by, and enter a first-class compartment of a rail- 
way-coach before the shrill whistle sounded. She 
leaned back in her seat, noting that she had the com- 
partment all to herself. The train began to move, and 
Beatrix put her face to the open window just in time to 
see Sanders, who was running up, breathless, flushed, 
and apoplectic-looking, and extending to her in one 
hand a railway ticket, which Beatrix had not purchased, 
believing that there was not time enough to do so. 

She took the pasteboard from his hand, expressed her 
thanks, waved him an adieu, and the train moved on, 
bearing her to the northward. 

She had not even known whither the train was 
bound. Her ticket was for South Shields, she dis- 
covered upon examination. 

The journey was not a long one, and was performed 
i in safety, without event. 

Alighting at her destination, she procured a cab and 
drove to a quiet little inn. Here she obtained a Brad- 
shaw’s guide, and studied it attentively. Armed with 
the information it afforded her, she went out into the 
streets, made her way to the river and crossed the 


322 


Beatrix Rohan . 


steam ferry to North Shields, keeping her face carefully 
vailed. 

At North Shields she found her way down to the 
docks. There were many vessels to be seen, most of 
them rough and black and dingy -looking, even to the 
sails, colliers for the most part ; and Beatrix turned her 
eyes from them, seeking something entirely different. 

Mrs. Talcut’s plan of procedure, after they had 
quitted Folliott Court, and the success that had attended 
it, had impressed upon Beatrix the necessity of exercis- 
ing the utmost caution and guardedness. 

She dared not remain at North or South Shields, or 
even at Newcastle. -She dared not proceed thence by 
rail, least her enemies should trace her out. A steamer 
seemed to her to afford the best chance of escape, and 
she sought for one, not caring what might be its des- 
tination. 

A screw steamer from Newcastle, laden with coals, 
lay out in the stream, sending off steam in short, 
impatient puffs. She looked clean and wholesome. A 
few women and men, evidently passengers, were on her 
decks. Beatrix looked at them wistfully. While she 
looked, the steamer sent a boat ashore, and Beatrix 
noticed a little group of people standing near her, who 
were evidently expecting to enter it. 

She ventured to approach one of these persons, a 
poor, careworn looking woman with a baby in her arms, 
and ask her if she were intending to take passage on the 
streamer. 

“ Ay,” replied the woman. “ It is cheaper than the 
rail. The collier-steamers are not so dirty as you’d 
think.” 

“ And where are you going ?” asked Beatrix. 

“ To Lunnon, Miss.” 

Beatrix remembered having heard that a great 


Still Seeking Rest and Refuge . 


3 2 3 


town is a more perfect wilderness to hide in than any 
other place on earth. Would she not be safe in Lon- 
don ? Of course, she could not return to Mrs. Pinnet’s, 
since Colonel Brand might look for her there ; but in 
all the vast metropolis she could surely find some safe 
and pleasant lodging, from which she might write to 
Sir Lionel Charlton, and to which he could come for her. 

The boat came up to the landing, and when the group 
of waiting people had entered it, Beatrix followed them 
in silence, and was taken with them out to the vessel. 

The accommodations offered her were not of the best, 
but she had no thought for discomforts. She remained 
on deck, keeping near to the little faded woman to 
whom she had spoken. The passengers had brought 
their own provisions, Beatrix was not provided with 
stores of any description. Upon inquiry, she discovered 
that she could obtain a frugal supply on board, and 
accordingly bought and paid for some ship-biscuit, 
which constituted her entire provision for the voyage. 

Before the night fell the steamer had passed Tyne- 
mouth, and was well out at sea. That night Beatrix 
spent upon the deck, in the soft starlight and fresh air, 
being unable to go below to her crowded quarters and 
narrow berth. She slept a little, and awoke in the 
morning considerably refreshed and strengthened. 

The next day was dull and monotonous. The cease- 
less grinding sound of the great iron screw, the misery 
of her poor fellow- passengers, and her own desperate 
straits, made the day a hard one to poor Beatrix. 

Yet they did not arrive in London until the afternoon 
of the day thereafter. 

Upon landing, Beatrix found herself at a coal -wharf. 
No cabs were to be seen. A sixpence bestowed upon a 
barefooted lad who was lounging upon the wharf sent 
him in search of one. The girl’s fellow-passengers 


3 2 4 


Beatrix Rohan. 


straggled ashore on foot. She waited for a cab, and 
when it arrived, ordered the cabman to take her to 
the Waterloo railway-station. 

Upon arriving at her destination, Beatrix dismissed 
him, and when he had vanished, took another cab to 
Euston Square. 

Here, in the eating-room of the station, she procured 
a cup of coffee and a tolerable supper. 

She had formed her plans with great deliberation 
during her long voyage from Tynemouth to London. 
She had resolved not to remain in town, where her 
unprotected situation would attract attention to her. 
The Brands would be in London, and she would be 
afraid to venture into the streets, lest they should find 
her. 

She had still in her possession the letter of introduc- 
tion to Mr. Trevor, of Penmawr, Montgomeryshire, 
North Wales, which had been given her by Mrs. Trevor, 
the lady whom she had befriended in Brussels, and who 
had in turn rendered her such signal service. She 
resolved to present that letter in person. No one would 
look for her in Wales. 

She procured a ticket for Chester, and took the night 
train for that place. 

She arrived early the next morning at the quaint old 
town, and changed cars for Rhuabon. Thence she went 
on to Corwen and to Bala, in Merionethshire, alighting 
at the latter station. 

She found a fly — a rickety old vehicle, drawn by two 
stout Welsh ponies — and engaged it for her use. Its 
driver informed her, in reply to her questions, that 
Penmawr was ten or twelve miles distant, over the 
Berwyn mountains ; that the roads were rugged and 
difficult ; but that he thought he could take her to her 
destination before nightfall. 


Lilias s Enemy Silenced. 


325 


It was thus that Beatrix set out upon the last stage of 
her hard and eventful journey. 

“ What reception shall I meet from these strangers ?” 
she asked herself, with bitter forebodings, as she left the 
town of Bala behind her. “ It is weeks, months, since 
Mrs. Trevor gave me that letter. Perhaps my delay in 
presenting it may prejudice them against me. Perhaps 
they are no longer at Penmawr. My future looks 
gloomy. As to the past, have I covered my steps well 
during this last flight ? Will my enemies trace me out 
again, with their superhuman cunning ? Are they at 
this moment following swift upon my track ?” 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

LILIAS’S ENEMY SILENCED. 

It was the night and the hour appointed for the meet- 
ing between Caspar Voe and the guilty woman who was 
known at Folliott Court as Miss Bermyngham. 

The night was filled with the soft light of golden 
stars. The air was sweet and balmy, laden with the 
stolen fragrance of the gardens. At the rendezvous 
appointed, in the midst of the park, among the shadows 
that here held their court of gloom, Caspar Voe walked 
to and fro impatiently, a black scrowl upon his scarred 
forehead, his single eye glowing like a coal, an expres- 
sion of the keenest vigilance upon his hideous features. 

“ Why don’t she come ?” he said to himself, in a tone 
of annoyance. “ How dare she keep me waiting ? 
When one’s neck is in danger, one should be prompt to 


3 26 


Beatrix Rohan. 


propitiate him who holds the hangman’s rope in his 
hands !” 

He listened, pausing, and peering through the dark- 
ness under the densely-leaved trees. 

“ Still no sign of her approach !” he muttered pres- 
ently. “Can she mean to show me that she is not 
alarmed ? Can she mean to defy me ? Can she mean 
treachery ?” 

With an instinctive movement, he thrust one hand 
into his breast, clutching a revolver which he had hid- 
den there. Knowing so well the womau with whom he 
had to deal, he had come to the interview duly armed 
and prepared for treachery. 

He was about to resume his walk, when he beheld a 
shadow flitting along the dim aisle under the trees and 
approaching him swiftly from the direction of the Court. 

Retreating a few steps, he concealed himself behind 
the trunk of a great oak tree, and waited. 

The figure came nearer and nearer, and at length 
emerged into the open glade, in the center of which 
was the great fountain. Here the figure paused uncer- 
tainly. It was completely shrouded in a black water- 
proof cloak, the hood drawn closely over its head, and 
its identity could scarcely be determined in the darkness. 

But Gaspar Voe knew as well as he knew himself, 
the soft, half-frightened voice which now called his 
name in a quick, low voice, and he came forth from his 
concealment, answering : 

“ Here I am, Lilias. Why are you so late ?" 

The girl moved nearer to him, as if frightened at the 
darkness and loneliness of the scene. Her hood, which 
she had held together with one hand under her chin, 
fell back, revealing the crimps and waves of her high- 
coiffed blonde hair. A stray gleam of starlight rested 
upon her pretty pink-and-white face, and showed her 


Lilias s Enemy Silenced. 


327 


black eyes, usually so downcast, now uplifted with a wild 
appealing in their depths, and a tremulous quiver about 
the red mouth with its grieving childish lips. 

Standing thus, with the pale gleam of light falling 
upon her face, she made a picture that might have 
touched the hardest heart. 

But it did not touch the heart of Caspar Voe. He 
only laughed mockingly and with a savage sort of a 
sneer. 

“You play that well, Lilias,” he said coolly. “You 
always did the ingenue business well. You were a born 
actress, and I wonder that you didn’t make more of a 
mark upon the stage. But I have been behind the 
scenes too much to admire this sort of thing. I really 
think I prefer to see you in your real character — the 
wicked, unscrupulous, revengeful, and bad woman, 
because in that you are genuine. So lay aside this pus- 
sy-cat purring, Lilias. I mean business !” 

A hard look passed over the impostor’s face, as she 
answered calmly, and in a tone devoid of those pretty 
affectations that had seemed to belong to her as second 
nature : 

“ And so I mean business ! Did you come here 
alone, Caspar Voe ?” and she peered around her inquis- 
itively. “ If you have brought an officer, or a spy to 
overhear us, I shall go at once !” 

“You are so treacherous yourself that you suspect 
every one else of treachery,” declared Voe. “I have 
brought no officer or spy. I came alone.” 

The woman knew from his tones that he told the truth. 

“ Did — did you tell any one where you were coming ?” 
she asked, as if nervously. “ Have you in any way 
betrayed to any one whom you were to meet to night, 
or that you had an appointment with any one ?” 

“ I did not. The people at the inn believe that I am 


328 


Beatrix Rohan. 


in my own room, abed and asleep. I left my room by 
the window, climbing out over a shed and sliding to the 
ground. I have kept our appointment a profound secret, 
as I agreed to.” 

And again the woman knew that he told the truth. 
A sudden gleam, as of a new-kindled spark, appeared 
in her black eyes. The man noticed it, and continued 
carelessly : 

“ As I said, no one at the inn knows anything about 
my business. I came out secretly and by stealth. But 
I knew with whom I had to deal, and I came prepared 
to defend myself. Look at that !” 

He drew out his revolver and exhibited it to her. 

She sprang back, with a little cry of affected terror. 

“Oh, Caspar,” she cried, “do you doubt me like that? 
Do you think me capable of doing you harm ?” 

“ Why shouldn’t I think so ? You attacked me once 
when I was helplessly drunk, bound me hand and foot, 
gashed my face and breast, gouged out my eye and 
left me for dead. Why should you not be capable of 
doing me harm when you killed your own little, inno- 
cent, sleeping child ?” 

“ Oh ! don’t, don’t !” cried the woman, putting her 
hand over her eyes, as if to shut out a horrible vision. 
“ I was mad then ! I was mad ! Why else should I 
have destroyed him ? You drove me to it, Caspar. 
Your drunkenness and idleness drove me out of my 
senses !” 

“ Oh, 3?es, ‘ the man tempted me,’ ” sneered Voe. 
“ Other women have idle and drunken husbands, but 
they don’t kill their innocent children, nor stab their 
husbands in their sleep ! The trouble was as much in 
you as in me. You were a false, bad wife, fond of 
dress, and luxury, and admiration, and the child and I 
stood in your way. But for that burst of fury that 


Lilias s Enemy Silenced. 


329 


night, you would have quietly poisoned us both, instead 
of stabbing us. The bowl would have befitted your char- 
acter better than the knife, although my pretty tiger- 
cat, you can give a blow promptly enough when you 
choose.” 

“ Heap reproaches and sneers upon me, Caspar !” 
said the woman, with assumed meekness. “ I deserve 
all you can say !” 

“ And a great deal more !” said Voe coolly. “ You 
are a keen one, Lilias. You have done well for your- 
self, I must say. The cuckoo is in the dove’s nest and 
passes for the dove. Your actress education stands you 
in good stead here ! But tell me — did you kill Miss 
Bermyngham ?” 

“ Did I not tell you she died of heart-disease ? She 
died a natural death — ” 

“ Permit me to doubt it. You gave her some subtle 
poison, perhaps. Her death was too opportune to be 
an accident. And how readily you slipped into her 
place and forced your own assumed indentity upon her 
dead body ! You must have stripped her corpse of its 
money and jewels, unless you robbed her while she 
was yet living !” 

“I tell you I never harmed her. I never had a 
thought of harming her. But when she died there in 
the coach so suddenly and awfully, right before my 
eyes, what could I do other than I did ? If I had 
declared who she really was, I might have brought sus- 
picion upon myself. In the quickness of a flash I saw 
that I might slip into her place and be lost to my ene- 
mies. I supposed they would make inquiries at the 
London station, if any one suspected me of being 
Agatha Walden ; and, finding Agatha Walden dead, I 
supposed all pursuit would stop there.” 

“ And so it might, but that I obtained the address of 


330 


Beatrix Rohan. 


Miss Bermyngham of her former servant in Calcutta, 
and did not pause to make inquiries in London, but 
came on directly to Folliott Court. Has no one ever 
suspected that you may be an impostor ?” 

“ No one. How should they suspect ? Miss Ber- 
myngham went out to India in her early childhood. 
She was kept in the nursery while on the brief visit 
here long ago, and all that any one remembered of her 
was that she was blonde.” 

“ And you are blonde. But about the eyes ? Yours 
are hard and black. What were hers ?” 

It suited the false Miss Bermyngham to lead Caspar 
Voe into conversation. She had a terrible purpose in 
view and wanted time to screw up her courage “ to the 
sticking point.” The longer she could put off the 
moment of action the better for her. She hoped to 
throw her enemy off his guard and to take advantage 
of his possible momentary self-forgetfulness. There- 
fore she answered : 

“ Her eyes were pale blue, those light eyes that have 
no brightness nor beauty. She was an insignificant - 1 
looking creature, and Lady Folliott would never had 
any pride in her. I make a much better Miss Bermyng- 
ham than she did !” 

“ As vain as ever, I see,” said Caspar Voe, smiling 
sneeringly. “ But I don’t .see how Lady Folliott can 
accept black eyes in place of blue.” 

“ I take care that she don’t see mine. And a down- 
cast look is so shy and modest that it is considered a 
beauty in me. And then, fortunately, Miss Bermyng- 
ham s mother had dark eyes, so that Lady Folliott does 
not perplex herself upon the subject. She was a little 
surprised at first — she owned it — to find that my eyes 
were not blue, but I easily dissipated her surprise.” 


Lilias's Enemy Silenced \ 


33i 


“ But have you no difficulty with your maid ? She 
must know that your hair is dyed.” 

“ I think she does not know it. She is near-sighted. 
If she knew it, she wouldn't dare tell. I know things 
about her that won’t bear raking up. She is wanted in 
Paris, you see, and she is only too thankful for a safe 
refuge in a secluded country-house.” 

“ You are cleverer even than I fancied, Lilias,” said 
Voe, admiringly. “ Pity you have the heart of a demon. 
You might have made something of yourself, Lilias — ” 

“ Don’t preach to me,” interrupted the impostor, 
imperiously. “ I won’t listen to it. Your own life has 
not been so much better than mine—” 

“ But I never committed murder !” 

The woman was silent but her eyes burned like 
wreckers’ fires, and a dangerous look appeared on her 
painted face. 

“I had hard work enough to get out to-night,” she 
said, after a pause, in an altered voice. “ Lady Folliott 
stayed later than usual in the drawing-room, and I 
thought that I should never be rid of her. I had to 
change my dress afterwards, and slip out through the 
conservatory, the other doors being locked. It’s all a 
risk, you see. If I should be seen to enter the house at 
this hour, what would Lady Folliott think ? So, as I 
have so many extra anxieties of myown, Caspar, we will 
cut our interview short. Hark ! Is not that some one 
coming ?” 

They listened, but Voe declared he had heard noth- 
ing. 

The impostor’s start and exclamation were but a bit 
of acting. They were well done, for they deceived her 
enemy. In truth, she head no sound, and did not fancy 
that she heard any. 

“ I am sure that some one is approaching,” she said, 


332 


Beatrix Roha?i . 


with pretended nervousness, looking around her and 
shrinking a little nearer to him. “ What if I have been 
watched? followed? I feel as if eyes were peering 
upon us from the gloom around us. I am afraid. Let 
us go further into the park. It may be only a keeper 
who is out late, but I must not be seen here !” 

She drew her hood over her head and moved away. 
Voe followed her. 

“ We will not go far,” he said. “ I don’t believe any 
one is coming.” 

“ You are sure that it is not some one who has followed 
you from the inn ?” 

“ Perfectly sure. How could any one follow me 
when no one knows that I have left my room ?” 

“Yes, I forgot. I am not myself to-night. This 
meeting with you has made me strangely nervous. I can’t 
help but think some one is watching us. And yet I 
came out as secretly as you. Besides, who should watch 
me ? No one suspects that I am not what I seem — no 
one on earth but you ! That is,” she added artfully, 
“ unless you have told some one of your suspicions con- 
cerning me !” 

“ I have told no one. No one on earth besides my- 
self suspects that Miss Bermyngham of Folliott Court is 
Lilias Voe, the murderess.” 

“ No one ?” said the woman, trying to hide her eager- 
ness. “ No one ?” 

“ No one !” 

“ And no one shares your suspicions concerning the 
identity of Lilias Voe with Agatha Walden ?” cried the 
woman, her eyes sparkling. 

“ I did not say that. Do you remember my cousin, 
Gordon Hyslop ?” 

“Remember him? Your boon-companion, a card- 
sharper, a man who lives by his wits, and who was 


Lilias's Enemy Silenced. 


333 


always wanting to borrow money, even of me — remem- 
ber him ? I should think I did ?” 

“ He came to England with me. His mother sent him 
money to fetch him home. I told him of my suspicions 
about Agatha Walden, but I told no one else. I could 
trust Gordon. By heaven ! He hates you, Lilias. You 
treated him badly enough, shutting your door on him, 
you know, and refusing to recognize him.” 

“ And he only knows your suspicions regarding Agatha 
Walden ? Nothing more ?” 

“ Nothing more.” 

The woman pushed forward in silence. 

“ Do you know, Lilias, that I should be half inclined 
to fear you if you were not so small and frail-looking ?” 
said Voe, after a little with a hoarse laugh. “ You have 
got determination enough to fill a bigger and stronger 
body. You can attack drunken helpless men or 
sleeping babies, but badly as you hate and fear me, you 
know now that I am your master. But why do you go 
so far ? I won’t stir a step further.” 

He halted abruptly, and the woman came also to a 
standstill. 

They were in a lonely portion of the park, in the 
midst of thick underbrush, and under a dense mass of 
foliage. Trees were all about them, growing thickly. 
Only a few rays of starlight penetrated through the 
rifts among the branches, and fell upon them and the 
green turf at their feet. 

“ We are safe enough here. No one has followed 
us,” said Voe. “ A guilty conscience makes its owner 
timid as a hare ; but you were always a coward, Lilias. 
Let us come to business. Have you brought the money 
and jewels ?” 

“ The money ? You have little idea of money if you 
think I can carry ten thousand pounds in gold about my 


334 


Beatrix Rohan . 


person,” replied the impostor. “ That sum would 
weigh two or three hundred pounds avoirdupois. I 
brought the ten thousand pounds, however, in Bank of 
England notes. My messenger arrived with them from 
London to-day.” 

“ Bank-notes ! I hate bank-notes in such a case. 
The numbers are all taken down ; they are easily 
traced — ” 

“ Well, what of that, if you don’t mean to betray me ?” 
demanded the woman. 

But this was precisely what Caspar Voe intended to 
do. He meant to secure his hush-money, and then give 
her up to the law. As she would be proved to be 
Lilias Voe, and not Miss Bermyngham, she would have 
no right to pay away Miss Bermyngham’s money. Her 
agent would testify to the numbers of the bank-notes, 
and he would be compelled to refund them. They 
were likely to make him trouble. Yet he decided to 
take them and hide them away carefully, with a view to 
possible future use. 

“ Bank-notes are ticklish property, unless you can 
prove how you came by them,” he said aloud. “ But 
give them to me !” 

The woman produced a large packet which she 
placed in his hands. He saw that it was sealed, and 
stamped, and marked. He tore open one end of it, and 
saw that it contained Bank of England notes. 

“ I haven’t opened it,” said the woman. “ The agent 
said the notes were all of large denomination. He 
supposed that I was about to purchase some landed 
property — ” 

“ Never mind what he supposed. Where are the 
jewels ? Misb Bermyngham, being such a great heiress 
and living nearly all her life in India, must have had 
some splendid jewels. Where are they ?” 


Lilias s Enemy Silenced. 


335 


“ Here !” and the impostor exhibited a Russia leather 
hand-bag which she had secured to her belt. “ I took 
them out of their cases and dropped them in all here. 
See ! They are worth four times as much as the bank- 
notes !” 

“ Forty thousand pounds ! Let me see them !” 

Voe snatched the bag and pulled it open, thrusting in 
one hand and holding up a portion of the jewels to the 
faint starlight. There were necklaces, bracelets, 
brooches, and ear-drops, besides eigrettes and rings and 
other ornaments, and there were big pellucid diamonds 
like drops of fire ; pigeons’ blood rubies ; of sap- 
phires ; topazes, yellow as if solidified sunshine ; and 
great green emeralds of cool lustre and remarkable 
beauty. The dim light was insufficient. Voe struck a 
fusee, and contemplated his splendid prize with gloating 
eye. 

“ These glittering baubles could be sold, gem by gem, 
in any city of the world, with the exterior I should put 
on, and excite no comment from any one,” thought 
Casper Voe. “ The money, I fancy, will prove useless 
to me, but here is wealth. I can live in luxury all my 
life. I can establish myself as a gentleman. I can buy 
an estate, if I choose. Yes, I have done well. I’ll go 
away and hide these trinkets. I’ll give Lillias three 
days of fancied security. And then the jewels safely 
hidden, I’ll deliver her up to the officers of justice and 
she shall swing for her crimes !” 

He was thus busy with his thoughts, his single eye 
riveted upon the bag full of gems, for the moment 
oblivious of his companion. 

But she, guilty and apprehensive, reading his inten- 
tions regarding herself, knowing that her very life was 
threatened by this sword of Damocles, which might 
fall at any moment, was on the alert ! 


33 ^ 


Beatrix Rohan. 


Drawing - a dagger from beneath her cloak — a little 
jeweled dagger of Indian manufacture, which had 
belonged to the late Mr. Bermyngham, and which Miss 
Bermyngham had brought to England among her 
effects — she held it in the shadow, in a position to 
strike. 

And, as Caspar Voe lighted his third fusee and bent 
his head lower over his treasure, leaving his breast 
unguarded, the woman swooped forward with the quick- 
ness of a flash and plunged the dagger to the hilt in his 
breast. 

The bag dropped from his hands, which flew to his 
bosom, and groped there feebly for his revolver. His 
single eye flamed up with a sudden and awful fire ; an 
awful imprecation trembled on his lips. But as the 
woman, who had retained her hold upon the dagger, 
drew the weapon swiftly from its sheath within his 
heart, the blood gushed forth in one great jet, and he 
fell forward on his face. 

The woman sprang backward several paces. 

How still he was ! How still the night was ? Still ? 
No, there were a thousand sounds. The fall of water 
somewhere near, the rustling of leaves, the swaying of 
branches, the calling of night-birds, the rushing of a 
hare through the undergrowth, the movement of a deer 
— the night was full of sounds. And she had thought 
it still ! 

She was panic-stricken, overcome with terror, tremb- 
ling with cowardly fears. He did not stir. Was he 
dead ? She forced herself to creep forward to his side. 
The bag of jewels was in her way. She paused to pick 
it up and examine it, even then. No drop of blood 
was upon it. She secured the bag again to her belt 
with a little sigh of relief, and bent over her enemy. 

He lay on his face. There was a singular immova- 


Sir Lionel's Victory . 


337 


bility about his figure, a growing rigidity. She exerted 
all her strength, and turned his face upward. 

The one eye was wide open, and glazed, and set. The 
scarred and hideous visage was white and awful. The 
lower jaw was fallen. He was dead. 

The woman put her hand above his heart. Assuring 
herself that it had forever ceased to beat, she took from 
him the packet of bank-notes. They were unstained. 
She secured them about her person, ascertained that no 
drop of blood was upon her garments, and then picked 
up the dagger which she had thrown from her, and 
sidled away from the spot, her glances turning back- 
wards upon the horrible object upon the green sward. 

She threw the dagger as far out as possible in the 
little lake to which she now hastened, and waited until 
it had disappeared. 

“Now I am safe V* she whispered to herself, hollowly. 
“ Safe ! Perfectly safe ! I am rid of my enemy !” 

As silently as a cat, but with a frightful burden of 
guilt upon her wicked soul, she crept towards the gray 
old mansion, starting at every sound, and looking 
behind her at every moment with ghastly fancy that 
the spirit of her murdered enemy was at her back ! 


CHAPTER XXXV. 
sir Lionel's victory. 

Upon the morning subsequent to the perpetration of 
the awful crime we have narrated in the preceding 
chapter, the false Miss Bermyngham came down to 
breakfast a little late, but exhibiting no signs of the 
awful experience of the previous night. 


338 


Beatrix Rohan. 


If her hard black eyes were haggard, the down- 
dropped lids concealed them. What might have been 
the natural color of her face upon that morning cannot 
be known, for the pearl and pink enamel effectually con- 
cealed the skin beneath. She was dressed in a white 
breakfast robe, all puffs and frills of real old lace, with 
blue ribbons girdling her waist, and dotting her dress 
here and there, at the neck, on the sleeves, and upon 
the skirt. A blue bow nestled amid the crimps and 
puffs of her red-gold hair, and blue bows ornamented 
the blue kid slippers encasing her small feet. She 
looked very fair and dainty to Lady Folliott, who kissed 
her with a yearning sort of tenderness, and said affec- 
tionately: 

“ How fresh you look, Nerea, darling — as if you had 
not a care in the world !” 

“And I have none— save one !” said the impostor, 
speaking the last words as to herself. “ Dear Aunt 
Folliott, you are so good to me. Surely, I ought to be 
the happiest girl in the world ?” 

The guilty woman, so pure and childlike in her seem- 
ing, so black at heart, without a shadow of remorse for 
the crime she had committed darkening her spirit, was 
very gay at the breakfast-table, full of chatter, far more 
lively and animated than usual, but she listened intently 
for every sound. She expected with every instant that 
some panic-stricken servant would rush in with the 
announcement of the discovery of a dead body in the 
park, and she was all ready to play her part in the scene 
that must follow. 

But no such announcement was made. The quiet of 
the old mansion was not disturbed by the expected cries 
of wonder and horror. The ladies adjourned to the 
morning-room. Lady Folliott took up her work. The 
impostor moved restlessly to and fro, now touching the 


Sir Lionel's Victory 


339 


keys of the piano, now picking up a book, and again 
looking from the windows with a horrible expectancy. 

The morning passed without event, save that the 
ladies dressed and went out to drive. They passed 
through the village of Folliott Fens, and returned 
through the park. And still no alarm had been raised 
— the body of Caspar Voe had not yet been discovered. 

Unable to maintain her apparent interest in trifling 
occupations, the false Miss Bermyngham remained in 
her own room throughout the afternoon. She kept her 
maid in close attendance upon her, affecting a head- 
ache, but she declared herself sufficiently well to make 
a superb toilet for dinner. She had restored her jewels, 
after her return from the park upon the previous night, 
to her jewel cases, and had placed her packet of money 
in her desk. No trace remained of that fateful night- 
excursion, so far as her possessions were concerned. 

She robed herself in a dinner-dress of white organdy, 
over pale blue silk, and adorned herself with a full 
parure of Oriental pearls, which had been among the 
treasures she had bestowed upon Caspar Voe. A little 
shudder went through her frame as she attached the 
milk-white spheres to her ears and wound the coils of 
pearls around her throat. Did those clinging strands 
suggest to her the pressure of the hangman’s rope ? A 
little quiver convulsed her rose-red mouth ; a little 
trembling seized upon her eyelids ; but the face, with 
its enamelling, was always impassive in its prettiness 
and fixed in its coloring, but for eyes and mouth seem- 
ing the face of a picture. It was scarcely possible to 
judge from her features the nature of her thoughts. 

She descended to the drawing-room, finding Lady 
Folliott there awaiting her. 

“ I have news for you, Nerea !” cried the baroness, 
as she entered. “ Guess what it is !” 


340 


Beatrix Rohan . 


The impostor started. Had the body of her victim 
been discovered ? 

“ I am not good at guessing,” she forced herself to 
answer, with a sickly smile. “ Has anything hap- 
pened ? 

“ How strangely your voice sounds, Nerea ! You 
must have caught cold. As you cannot guess my news, 
dear, I must tell you. I have had a telegram from 
Lion. He will be here to-night.” 

The impostor drew a long breath of relief. The 
hour of discovery of that ghastly object in the thicket 
of the park was still deferred then. 

“ To-night !” she echoed, scarcely knowing what she 
said. 

“ To-night. I have sent a carriage to Spalding, to 
meet him. You are dressed early. We have still an 
hour before dinner, as I have had the dinner put back a 
half-hour. Lion will be here to dine with us.” 

The false Miss Bermyngham stole a glance at her 
reflection in an opposite mirror. 

“ You look very lovely, dear,” said the baroness, 
noting her glance. “ As sweet and pretty as any fairy. 
I think — I am quite sure — that I know to what to attri- 
bute Lionel’s speedy return,” and she smiled on her 
supposed niece. “We shall soon see, dear.” 

Sir Lionel Charlton’s errand was scarcely what she 
supposed. 

He arrived as expected, and Lady Folliott over- 
whelmed him with her delighted welcome. The impos- 
tor, in her role of ing6nue, was shy and smiling, con- 
fused and pleased, all at once, dropping her eyelids 
even lower than usual, and exhibiting a self-conscious- 
ness which could not fail to attract the attention of our 
hero. 

Dinner was served at the hour appointed, Sir Lionel 


Sir Lionel's Victory. 


341 


having time for his toilet before the meal was 
announced. 

After dinner, the false Miss Bermyngham played 
upon the piano, conversed a little, and as soon as tea 
had been served at half-past ten withdrew to her own 
rooms for the night. 

“ Strange that the body has not been found yet,” she 
thought, as she entered her dressing-room. “ I’am 
glad it has not been, and sorry too. I dread the dis- 
covery, yet I wish it were over. To be sure, that corner 
of the park is seldom visited, yet the keepers should 
have been there. What does Sir Lionel want ?” the cur- 
rent of her thoughts changing abruptly. “ He has not 
come to propose for me, as Lady Folliott fancies. There 
was no love for me in his eyes. Perhaps those Brands 
have carried off Beatrix again and he has discovered my 
betrayal of her and — oh, impossible ! But what can he 
want ?” 

The young baronet was at that very moment unfold- 
ing his errand to his relative. 

He had drawn his chair up to her own. His dark and 
handsome face was full of tenderness and feeling. He 
took one of her ladyship’s hands in his own, and said, 
gravely : 

“ Aunt Folliott, can you guess why I am returned ?” 

“ Is it about Nerea ?” asked Lady Folliott, coming to 
the point at once. “Oh, Lion, have you discovered 
Nerea’s sweetness and purity and loveliness for your- 
self ? Have you come to make me happy by telling me 
that you desire to carry out my plans ?” 

The young baronet’s face became graver. His black 
eyes had a deeper shadow in them as he replied : 

“ Aunt Folliott, you married for love ; why should 
you desire Nerea and me to contract a marriage of con- 
venience !” 


342 


Beatrix Rohan . 


“ Why should not your union with her be one of 
affection, Lion ?” asked the baroness, gently. 

“Because we do not love each other, Aunt Folliott,” 
and Sir Lionel smiled. 

“ Why can you not love Nerea ? Why are men’s 
hearts so perverse?” sighed Lady Folliott, her hopes 
falling. “ Is she not sweet, artless, lovely, pretty ?” 

Sir Lionel was silent. 

“ I demand an answer, Lionel,” said the lady, with 
some severity. Is she not all that I have said ?” 

“ She is certainly very pretty — ” 

“ And artless and good and lovely ? Answer me, 
Lionel. I insist upon an answer.” 

“ Then, at the risk of offending you, Aunt Folliott,” 
said Sir Lionel, “ I must confess that Miss Bermyng- 
ham does not seem to me to be what you describe 
her.” 

“ Lionel ! What do you mean ? Explain your- 
self !” 

“ You force me to tell you, Aunt Folliott. Well, then, 
I have changed my early opinion of Miss Bermyngham. 
I think her artificial, instead of artless. She does not 
seem to me lovely. She is pretty, I have granted that, 
but, dear Aunt Folliott, hers is not the face that I would 
like to see at the head of my table throughout my life. 
Have you noticed that the color never comes and 
goes on her cheeks ? That she never looks one square 
in the face ! I do not like her little affectations. She 
is not well-educated, despite the money and care which 
Uncle Miles lavished upon her education ; she is inca- 
pable of actual, earnest thought ; she has no actual 
accomplishments, such as befit a young lady of her 
wealth and station ; she is shallow, vain, ignorant, a 
worshipper of dress — ” 

A sharp pang wrung Lady Folliott’s heart. Her 


Sir Lionel's Victory . 


343 


features were suddenly convulsed with a look of pain. 
She was an eminently just woman, and she knew that 
Sir Lionel had told the truth. Despite her affection for 
the false Nerea, she could not blind her eyes to the 
facts when they were thus set before her. 

Yet she interrupted him with an impatient gesture. 

“ Lionel,” she said, “ you are speaking of the nearest 
relative I have in the world — of my own dead sister’s 
child — of the girl whom I have adopted into my affec- 
tions as my own child ! I cannot bear to hear your 
harsh judgment upon her. If she is not accomplished, 
remember that she has inherited her father’s heart-dis- 
ease, and that her physical weakness may have pre- 
vented application to her studies. Child as she is in 
many things, she has a warm, loving heart. I wish I 
could see her your wife, Lionel.” 

“ That is impossible.” 

“You utterly refuse to comply with my wishes, 
then ?” 

“ I must refuse to do violence to my own heart : I 
must refuse to wrong the heart that I have won to trust 
in me,” said Sir Lionel, very gravely. “Aunt Folliott, 
you have told me of your plans for adding the Folliott 
estates to the Bermyngham property. I do not want 
your wealth. Give it all to Nerea when you no longer 
have need of it— which Heaven grant may be long, long 
years hence— but do not take your affection from me. 
You have been a mother to me, since my mother died. 
I have never missed her, Aunt Folliott, having your 
tenderness and constant kindness, your gentle, watch- 
ful care, your motherly affection. Do not take these 
from me, even if in this one thing I must go counter to 
your wishes.” 

He raised her hand to his lips. Her face quivered 
and grew pale. 


344 


Beatrix Rohan. 


“ My month of probation expired the day I left Fol- 
liott Court,” said Sir Lionel, after a brief pause. “ Aunt 
Folliott, I have been to Durham. I have seen Bea- 
trix.” 

Still Lady Folliott was silent. 

“I told her of my love for her,” resumed the young 
baronet. “ She loves me also. But she has refused to 
marry me without your consent. Aunt Folliott, will 
you not grant it ?” 

“ How can I ?” cried the baroness. “ Oh, my poor 
Nerea ! Lionel, must this thing be ? Will you not 
give up Beatrix — not even for me !” 

“ Not even for you, my more than mother,” said Sir 
Lionel, affectionately, but with a gentle firmness that 
was like a rock. “ I love her with all my soul. Give 
her up — the sunshine that has come to glorify my life ? 
Never — never ! You could not ask it. Tell me, Aunt 
Folliott, is not Beatrix more beautiful than Nerea ?” 

“ Oh, yes, a thousand times !” said the baroness, 
readily. 

“ Is she not more noble of nature ?” 

“Yes, I grant that.” 

“ Is she not sweeter ?” 

The baroness hesitated. 

“ She has not the insipid sweetness of Nerea,” said 
Beatrix’s lover, “ but she has a rarer, better sweetness, 
a pure, calm, and even temperament, a nature incapable 
of anything petty or ignoble — in short, a grand, sweet 
nature, sound and pure to the core.” 

“ She has all that,” acknowledged the baroness. 

“ Is she not more accomplished than Nerea ? Better 
educated ? Has she not a greater intellect, a stronger 
mind ? Is she not better bred ? Does she not exhibit 
that high-breeding which distinguishes the highest 
classes, and which Nerea lacks ?” 


Sir Lionel' s Victoiy. 


345 


“ I grant all this ; but why do you disparage Nerea, 
Lionel ?” 

“ I merely wished to show to you that Beatrix is 
Nerea’s superior a thousand fold. I wanted to show 
you that this fugitive girl is worthy a place in your 
heart — ah, she had won that for herself — and in your 
family. I wanted you to do full justice to Beatrix in 
every respect. You acknowledge her to be all that I 
have said. Dear Aunt Folliott, will you not consent to 
accept her as your niece ?’’ 

“ Lionel, you break my heart. I have told my plans 
to Nerea. Suppose — I only say suppose — that she has 
become interested in you. Your marriage might, in 
such case, break her heart. 1 ' 

“ Impossible I Nerea can become interested in no 
one but herself. Her heart is not so tender as you 
think. You frighten yourself with a chimera, Aunt 
Folliott. Nerea loves no one but herself." 

Lady Folliott sighed heavily. She could not betray 
the secret of the false Nerea’s avowed love for Sir 
Lionel. All her womanly instincts impelled her to 
shield her supposed niece from the pity of even the 
young- baronet. No, she could not tell him that the 
girl had said she loved him. She could not tell him of 
the girl's pretended heart-disease, and implore him to 
marry her to preserve her life. 

She had no blame for Sir Lionel for not falling into 
her plans. She was eminently just. She knew that, if 
he loved Beatrix and if Beatrix returned his love, his 
marriage to Beatrix must follow. But she blamed her- 
self for having revealed her wishes to the impostor — 
blamed herself with a fierce and unreasoning anger and 
grief. If Nerea were to die of unrequited love, she 
said to herself, she — Lady Folliott — she only — was to 
blame ! 


346 


Beatrix Rohan. 


Even in her distress she could not help but do justice 
to Beatrix. The girl had won her heart. She believed, 
in her own soul, that Beatrix was very much dearer to 
her than was her supposed niece, and blamed herself 
accordingly. 

“ I have been very wrong, Lionel,” she said at last ? 
her proud face shadowed deeply. “ I am sorry that 
you ever met Beatrix. I am sorry that you have not 
fallen in love with Nerea. According to the announce- 
ment I long ago made to you, my property will go to 
that one of you who does not decline this marriage. As 
it now turns out, Folliott Court will go to Nerea.” 

“ Very well, Aunt Folliott, so that your give you con- 
sent to my marriage with Beatrix and give us also your 
kind wishes and some little portion of your affection,” 
said Sir Lionel, cheerfully. 

“ Beatrix has a great fortune, Lionel. Your estate is 
encumbered and you will have to live on a mere pit- 
tance for the next ten years if you desire to clear your 
property. Have you thought that people will call you 
a fortune-hunter ?” 

The young baronet’s cheeks flushed. 

“ Beatrix would be the same to me if she were a 
beggar,” he answered. “ What does it matter what the 
gossips say ?” 

“ You are resolved to marry her ? I can say nothing 
to make you change your mind ?” 

“ Nothing — nothing whatever. But we want your 
consent to make us happy,” said Sir Lionel, in the old 
boyish, coaxing way she so well remembered. “ Think 
of her, pursued by unrelenting enemies, with a year 
before her in which she must play hide and seek with 
them, and almost inevitably fall into their clutches 
unless this barrier of a marriage is raised up between 
her and them. Once she is married they become 


Sir Lionel' s Victory . 


347 


powerless ! Aunt Folliott, have I your consent to bring 
Beatrix here as my wife ?” 

The baroness was silent for a brief space, thinking of 
her supposed niece ; then she said, tremulously : 

“ Yes, Lionel ; you have my consent to your marriage. 
Bring Beatrix here as your wife as soon as may be. I 
have been wrong, but I will be wrong no longer. May 
God bless you both, even as I bless you !” 

She kissed him and embraced him, and then hurried 
away to her own rooms. A little later, when she had 
grown calmer, she made her way to the chamber of the 
false Miss Bermyngham, resolved to tell her the whole 
truth before she slept. 

She found the impostor still up in her dressing-room, 
attired in her dressing-gown. At Lady Folliott’s 
entrance the false Miss Bermyngham dismissed her 
maid, and the two were left to themselves. 

The impostor saw that the baroness had been weep- 
ing — that something had happened. 

“ What is the matter ?” she asked, in a startled voice. 
“ I did not hear anything — ” 

Lady Folliott, with great tenderness and gentleness, 
told the girl the story she had come to tell. The false 
Miss Bermyngham heard it with bitterness and anger, 
but without any display of her supposed malady, and 
without any actual grief, as the baroness saw with sur- 
prise. 

“ I must say that Sir Lionel has wretched taste to 
prefer Beatrix to me,” said the impostor, confident in 
her own mind that by this time her hated rival was safe 
within the power and keeping of her enemies, and that 
her own cause was by no means lost “ Don’t trouble 
about me, Aunt Folliott. It will all come out right yet, 
and if it don’t I’ll marry a peer, see if I don’t. After 
all, why should I throw myself away on a beggarly com- 


34 ^ 


Beatrix Rohan. 


moner when I might marry a peer ? We’ll spend next 
season in town, and then you’ll find out whether your 
little Nerea is attractive or not to others.” 

Lady Folliott returned to her own chambers, greatly 
relieved, but as greatly perplexed. 

The next morning the false Miss Bermyngham went 
down to the breakfast-room at the usual hour, resolved 
to treat Sir Lionel as if nothing had occurred, but she 
discovered that he had left Folliott Court at daybreak 
to catch the morning train from Spalding, being all 
eagerness to return to Durham and Beatrix. 

Lady Folliott looked at the girl narrowly, but saw no 
signs of her having passed a sleepless night. To the 
contrary, the impostor looked unusually fresh and 
charming. In the greater horror occupying her 
thoughts, the girl had little thought for Sir Lionel, but 
even the greater horror had not kept her sleepless ! 

After breakfast, as usual, they went to the morning 
room. Lady Folliott took up a newly-arrived news- 
paper : the impostor walked to and fro in an idle, desul- 
tory fashion, her heart consumed with its own evil pas- 
sions. 

Suddenly, a great cry sounded from without. The 
baroness dropped her paper in alarm. The girl stood 
still, with wide-open staring eyes and hands uplifted as 
if to ward off a blow. 

“ What is it ?” asked the baroness. 

The answer came unexpectedly, from the lips of the 
land-steward, who came rushing in, white and scared, 
exclaiming : 

“ My lady, there’s been a dead body found in the 
park ! The body of a man who has been murdered !” 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

TREVOR FARM. 

Trevor Farm, in Montgomeryshire, North Wales, was 
in the very shadow of the Bermyn mountains, and com- 
prised some three hundred acres of hill and dale, fields 
and pastures, all under the highest state of cultivation 
possible to the somewhat stony soil. 

The house was a long, quaint, old-fashioned farm- 
house, with mullioned windows set with diamond panes 
a deep stone porch, with a seat on either side of it, a 
gable roof, and picturesque chimney stacks. A bow- 
window or two, narrow and sharply-outlined, shaped 
like a letter V, projected into the velvety lawn from 
one side of the house. Upon the other side, under 
immensely wide, mullioned casement windows, were 
rows of straw beehives, all densely populated. 

The rooms in the Trevor farm-house were long and 
low, with nooks and recesses in unexpected corners. 
They possessed immense old-fashioned fire-places, 
with fire-dogs of polished brass, high wooden 
mantelpieces, furniture of ancient date and by- 
gone fashion, yet well-preserved. It was a home of 
fifty years ago, with little of modern luxury and appli- 
ances, a home to which penetrated little of the bustle 
and turmoil of the great world, a home where one 

[ 349 ] 


350 


Beatrix Rohan. 


might live indeed, “ the world forgetting, by the world 
forgot.” 

Upon one side of the house— that which contained 
the drawing-room — was a wide green lawn, shaded by 
ancient trees. 

Upon the opposite side of the hall was the dining- 
room, under whose windows were the beehives. Upon 
this side was an old-fashioned garden, full of sweet-wil- 
liams, fragrant pinks, hollyhocks, sunflowers, tiger- 
lilies, with beds of heart's-ease, forget-me-nots and heli- 
otrope, a bright and sunny garden where the bees 
hummed all day long and hosts of birds made music, as 
they flitted in and out of their lofty bird-houses. 

Mr. Trevor, was the representative of a fine old 
Welsh family that had dwelt in this old stone house 
upon the mountain-side for many generations. By 
nature he was a hearty, bluff, warm-hearted gentleman, 
given to hospitality, but for some months he had been 
a victim to chronic rheumatism and could barely move 
about the house on crutches. 

His wife, a gentle old lady, with a soft, sweet, baby- 
ish face surrounded by gray hair, devoted herself to his 
care as if he had been an infant. 

The remainder of the household was composed of 
several grandchildren with their mother and governess, 
the father — Mr. Trevor’s son — who was a civil engineer, 
being absent in Russia, where he was employed at a 
lucrative salary in the practice of his profession. Such 
was the home to which the fugitive heiress, Beatrix 
Rohan, was flying for refuge from her pursuers. 

Small chance of refuge from her enemies in a house 
whose master was ill, a house full of helpless women 
and children. Small chance of finding defenders in a 
house where the only defenders were servants. 

It was late in the afternoon of the long midsummer 


Trevor Farm. 


35i 


day — nearly dusk, in fact — when the rickety, rumbling 
old fly, with its rough Welsh ponies, which had con- 
veyed Beatrix from Bala station, came down the rude 
mountain road, and turned into the long green lane 
that led to the farm-house. 

It seemed to Beatrix, as she looked from the window 
of the vehicle, that no spot on earth could be more 
secluded than this. The mountains seemed a barrier 
between her and pursuit. The rugged scenery, the tall 
green hedges, the thrifty fields, seemed unlike anything 
^she had ever before seen. 

“ It is like another world," she thought. “ No one 
would ever find me here. I could pass one year, ten 
years here, and not be discovered." 

The fly neared the farm-house, and presently turned 
in at the open gate, and rolled up the wide sweep, halt- 
ing before the porch. 

A troop of children and dogs came hurrying around 
the house, all alike stirred by the unwonted event of an 
arrival, the children mute enough, but the dogs yelping 
and barking in chorus. 

The driver descended and plied the knocker. A 
heavy-looking woman-servant answered the summons, 
and Beatrix alighted and asked if Mr. Trevor were at 
home. 

“ Yes, he’s at home," returned the woman, eyeing the 
young stranger, curiously. “ Won’t you come in ?’’ 

Beatrix, uncertain of her reception, bade the driver 
wait, and followed the woman into the dwelling. 

Crossing the hall, the servant ushered the young lady 
into the long, low drawing-room. 

“ Will you give Mr. Trevor this letter, please ?’’ said 
Beatrix, presenting her letter of introduction. “ It will 
explain my name and errand." 

The servant took the letter and departed. 


352 


Beatrix Rohan . 


Beatrix sat down and waited, her heart beating with 
quick muffled sound, her pulses throbbing, a keen 
anxiety possessing her. 

And yet, d^pite her suspense, she noticed the five 
mullioned casement windows, all of them now ajar to 
admit the evening breeze ; the dwarfed book-cases filled 
with well-bound books ; the cottage piano ; the photo- 
graphs, engravings, and silhouettes upon the walls ; the 
air of comfort and repose pervading the place. 

Her suspense was becoming painful, when a little old 
lady — Mrs. Trevor herself — in a cap and white crape 
over a gray silk gown, came softly into her presence. 

Beatrix arose, bowing her head deeply. 

“ You are Miss Rohan ?” said the old lady, in a very 
small voice that was yet pleasant and silvery. “ Yes ? 
I am Mrs. Trevor. You are welcome to Trevor Farm, 
my dear. Dear me, how young you are ! Too young 
to travel alone if you’ll pardon me for saying so, 
although I know your necessity. Any friend of my 
sister-in-law, Mrs. Trevor, is welcome here. Let me 
take you out into our sitting-room. My husband will 
see you there.” 

Taking the girl's hand, Mrs. Trevor led her across 
the hall to the long dining-room, which served also as 
sitting-room. 

Mr. Trevor was seated by the wide window, in a 
great straw-chair, his feet elevated upon another chair. 
He did not rise at the entrance of the ) r oung visitor, 
and Mrs. Trevor explained the cause, detailing his 
infirmity. 

The girl’s heart fell. This was no place for her, she 
thought. What was she to do ? 

Nevertheless, the bluff old gentleman and his little old 
wife exhibited such kindly sympathy for her and such 
interest in her that very soon she was sitting between 



THE BELEAGUERED PAIR WERE STILL AS DEATH. — See Page 385. 





























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Trevor Farm. 


353 


them and telling- them her story, omitting only to tell 
them of her engagement to marry Sir Lionel Charlton. 
That information she did not feel at liberty to impart 
until -she should hear the result of Sir Lionel's mission 
to Lady Folliott. 

Mr. and Mrs. Trevor had lived all their united lives 
at Trevor Farm, excepting one or two visits to London. 
They knew nothing about the impostures that are daily 
practiced upon benevolent people. They were kind- 
hearted, frank, and unsuspicious. The letter of their 
sister-in-law recommending Beatrix to their good offices 
in the warmest terms, was sure to fulfil its purpose. It 
scarcely needed the sight of the girl’s sweet, pure face 
with its great, innocent eyes, and its look of utter 
weariness and sadness, to enlist them heart and soul in 
her cause. As it was, in less than ten minutes, Beatrix 
was made to feel that she had found warm and true 
friends. 

“ You’ve come to the right place, Miss Rohan, if you 
want protection,” said the bluff old farmer. “ You are 
welcome here as the sunlight. Isn’t it so, Agnes ?” 

Mrs. Trevor gave quick assent. 

“ Is that flyman waiting outside yet ?” asked the 
farmer. “ Send him around to the stables, Agnes. He 
must stay till morning, if he will.” 

Mrs. Trevor rang, and gave the required order. 

“ And now I will take you upstairs,” she said, address- 
ing Beatrix. “ You will just have time to wash off the 
dust before supper.” 

She conducted Beatrix again into the hall, and up a 
broad stair to an upper hall, off which several doors 
opened. 

“ The house is packed as full as a sardine-box,” said 
Mrs. Trevor, with a little laugh. “ We have not a 
single spare room, but I shall give you the chamber of 


354 


Beatrix Rohan. 


my oldest granddaughter, who can be put elsewhere 
to-night. To-morrow my daughter-in-law and her 
family start for Russia upon a visit to my son, apd we 
shall have room enough then and to spare. You are 
come in good time, Miss Rohan, to prevent our feeling 
the absence of our young people too keenly.” 

She ushered Beatrix into a little box of a room, with 
a single casement-window, and left her to herself 
promising to send for her in the course of a few 
minutes. 

By the time the young fugitive had washed and 
brushed herself, a servant appeared to conduct her 
again to the dining-room. 

Here Beatrix found her host and hostess, their daugh- 
ter-in-law, grand-children and their governess, and in 
the very first moment she was made to feel herself 
among friends. 

Supper was served at a long table in the lower part 
of the room and consisted of tea, hot meats and vegeta- 
bles, a savory pie, hot cakes, and fresh fruits. Beatrix 
was surprised at her own appetite. A load seemed 
lifted from her spirit. She found herself growing 
light-hearted and joyous, and before supper was over felt 
as if she had known the Trevor family for years. 

Soon after the meal, evening prayers were read, and 
the children went away to bed. The governess soon 
after retired, and Beatrix, conceiving that the daughter- 
in-law would like to spend a last hour alone with her 
relatives, said good-night and departed to the chamber 
assigned her. 

Kind hands had been at work to make the little room 
pleasanter for her. Fresh white covers had been put 
upon the dressing-table and bed. The bed-linen, fresh 
and pure, smelled of lavender. But, better than all the 
rest, a little portable writing-desk, open, and well-filled 


The Peddler. 


355 


with writing materials, was placed upon a small table, 
upon which were also two wax candles. 

“ How kind and thoughtful they are !” Beatrix said 
to herself, her eyes filling with tears. “ What friends 
God has raised up for me every time, when I deemed 
that he had forsaken me !” 

She sat down at the little open desk. 

“ Lionel has gone back to Durham and has discovered 
that I have fled,” she thought. “ He is very anxious, 
of course. I dare not telegraph to him. I dare not 
write to him at his own home. He will not return there 
at present. I must address him at Folliott Court. The 
letter will be forwarded to him wherever he may be. I 
must write to-night and post the letter to-morrow and 
let him know where to find me. And yet, somehow, I 
do not like to address him at Folliott Court. It almost 
seems to me as if in so doing I should betray myself to 
my enemies ! Can it be that they have a spy in Lady 
Folliott's own house ? Is there any one there who would 
give me up to my pursuers ? Nonsense ! What strange 
fancies are these ? I will write to Lionel at once !” 


CHAPTER XXXVII. 

THE PEDDLER. 

Beatrix wrote her letter to Sir Lionel Charlton, 
detailing the particulars of her escape from her pur- 
suers, and telling him where she had found refuge. 
The letter finished and duly sealed, she undressed her- 
self, said her prayers with a new and ardent gratitude 
to heaven for its goodness to her, and went to bed and 
to sleep. 


356 


Beatrix Rohan . 


She was awakened in the morning by the songs of 
birds, the hum of bees, and the glad voices of children 
She arose and dressed herself, and, taking her letter, 
descended to the dining-room. 

She found her host and hostess here alone, and after 
exchanging morning greetings with them and receiving 
a kiss from the little old lady, she solicited their advice 
in regard to posting her letter. 

“ If you fear that the post-mark would betray you to 
your enemies, or some spy of theirs, Miss Rohan,” said 
Mr. Trevor, thoughtfully, “ you might send your letter 
up to London by my daughter-in-law, who will post it 
there. She has to stop a day or two in London, and 
will find it just in her way to do you this slight ser- 
vice.” 

The junior Mrs. Trevor, entering at this juncture, 
confirmed her father-in-law’s suggestion, proffered her 
assistance, and took possession of the letter. 

Breakfast was served presently, and almost directly 
afterwards the roomy family-carriage was brought 
around, and a spring-cart for servants and luggage fol- 
lowed close in its rear. 

The bustle of preparation succeeded. The travelers 
expected to be absent some months, and the leave-tak- 
ings were tearful and protracted. But at length the 
younger Mrs. Trevor, her children and their governess, 
were safely bestowed in the carriage, which the old 
people and Beatrix watched out of sight. 

The junior Mrs. Trevor’s two servants, a woman who 
combined the duties of nurse and maid, and a man who 
was to serve as valet and protector, entered the cart, 
with the luggage, and followed after the carriage. 

The fly, in which Beatrix had come to Trevor Farm, 
and which had remained over night, brought up the 
rear. 


The Peddler . 


357 


The quaint old farm-house seemed empty and lonely, 
even to Beatrix, when she re-entered it with her host 
and hostess. The wide casements were swinging wide 
open and the hum of the bees entered with the fra- 
grance from the garden. 

“ It seems almost as if we had had a funeral," said 
Mrs. Trevor, sighing. “ And they will all be away six 
months at the least. My son is very anxious to see his 
family. He has been parted from them for two years. 
You have come to us at the right time, Miss Rohan." 

“ You will keep me then ?" said Beatrix, her sweet 
face flushing. 

“ Gladly," said the old lady, and her husband echoed 
her words with emphasis. “ You shall have your home 
here for just so long as you will stay. This is not a 
home suitable for you, Miss Rohan, but it will prove a 
safe one." 

“ And a pleasant one also," said Beatrix, warmly. 
“ I feel at home here already. Circumstances may 
render my stay here brief. Perhaps I shall leave you 
within a week ; possibly I may desire to remain with 
you a year. I cannot be dependent upon you. I have 
plenty of money, and must pay my share of your house- 
hold expenses." 

Both Mr. and Mrs. Trevor demurred to this, but Bea- 
trix was firm, and finally her new friends consented to 
accept remuneration for her board, the amount of 
which was fixed at two guineas a week. 

This sum appeared munificent to Mrs. Trevor, who 
slipped out after a little and held a secret conference 
with her chief housemaid, a sort of general housekeeper, 
the result of which was that the junior Mrs. Trevor’s 
room was put in hand to be made ready for the young 
guest’s occupancy. 

“ I W as telling Miss Rohan," said Mr. Trevor turning 


358 


Beatrix Rohan . 


to his wife, as she re-entered the dining-room, “ that I 
wish she would give over her resolve to pay us for her 
board, at least for the present. We shall feel, if we 
take money from her, as if we ought to devote all our 
time and attention to her, which we would like to do in 
any case, but which just now is nearly impossible. 
You see, Miss Rohan,” and he looked at Beatrix, “I 
am afflicted with chronic rheumatism ; and the doctor 
has advised me to try a change of climate for a fort- 
night. I am to try Swansea. The doctor thinks the 
sea air may benefit me. In fact our lodgings are 
engaged at Swansea, and we are to arrive there next 
week, on Tuesday. We had thought this trip to 
Swansea very timely, so soon after our young people’s 
departure. As our rooms have been engaged for a 
month in advance, we must take possession of them. 
But,” added the old gentleman, “ why should you not 
go to Swansea with us, my dear ? You look pale. The 
sea-air would greatly benefit you.” 

“ I should not feel safe there,” said Beatrix. “ I dare 
not face so many people. My only safety lies in per- 
fect seclusion. I do not require care and attention. If 
you will kindly allow me to remain here during your 
absence, I shall be very grateful.” 

Her wishes prevailed. The Trevors consented to 
carry out their preconceived plans and go to Swansea 
at the appointed time, and Beatrix was to be left at 
Trevor Farm in the solitude she craved. 

In the course of the day Beatrix was installed in her 
new quarters — two rooms over the drawing-room 
with wide casement windows and chintz-covered furni- 
ture — bright and sunny chambers with deep cushioned 
window-seats, and with a couch and easy-chair or two, 
which were very tempting to a weary frame. 

And before night, the young girl had explored the 


The Peddler. 


359 


fragrant garden, and the farm -yard, had seen the 
horses and cows, poultry and sheep, had taken a walk 
up the mountain-side and had discovered two or three 
picturesque nooks for day-dreams, and several subjects 
for sketches. 

Before the day appointed for the departure of her 
host and hostess, Beatrix was quite at home at Trevor 
Farm. She spent much of her time out of doors. Her 
elastic temperament rebounded in this atmosphere of 
freedom and safety, and she was happy, contented, and 
full of strange and sweet expectancy. 

On Monday Mr. and Mrs. Trevor set out upon their 
journey to Swansea, after enjoining their stout Welsh 
housekeeper to watch over Beatrix with a constant 
care and to minister to her comfort in all things. 

“We can trust Esther,” Mrs. Trevor said, as she 
looked back from the carriage upon the group in the 
shadow of the farm-house porch. “ She has taken a 
great liking to Miss Rohan. She will guard her at any 
cost if the need arises. I feel quite safe about our 
young guest.” 

Beatrix watched the carriage until it had disappeared 
behind the trees lining the mountain-road, and then 
took up her sketch-book and went out for a stroll. 

She had reason to expect her lover now any day, but, 
strangely enough, he did not come. 

Tuesday and Wednesday passed, and Thursday 
morning came, but still Sir Lionel Charlton had not 
made his appearance. 

On the morning we have mentioned, Beatrix came 
down to breakfast at eight o’clock, dressed in the black 
silk walking dress in which she had quitted Bruce cot- 
tage, and which was now her only gown. Her hostess 
had given her a small supply of under and outer linen, 
and the frills at her throat and wrists were daintily 


Beatrix Roha7i. 


36° 


fresh. Her tawny hair was dressed high upon her 
head, and was crepe in fashionable style. With her 
high-bred, patrician beauty, her gentle manners, her low, 
sweet voice, her wondrous dusky eyes, she made an 
exquisitely lovely picture, which even Esther, the 
housekeeper, gazed upon with admiring eyes. 

A little round table had been drawn up close to one 
of the open windows, and a cover was laid upon it for 
Beatrix. Esther returned the young lady’s salutation 
in kind, and disappeared into the kitchen, soon return- 
ing with the breakfast-tray. 

A little pot of coffee, a plate of toasted muffins, hot 
rolls, a tiny silver jug of cream, a pat of golden butter, 
a honeycomb, and a dish of broiled ham and poached 
eggs, constituted the breakfast placed before Beatrix, 
but Esther apologized for it, as if it had been the first 
step toward starvation. 

“ You see, Miss Rohan,” she explained, her honest 
face clouded, “ it’s this Eistedfodd over at Bala. And 
the servants have all had promise of a holiday at the 
time of the Eistedfodd : and they went at daybreak in 
the cart, and won’t be back till night. Bad enough 
they wanted to stay until morning, for there’s fine 
doings this evening, but I wouldn’t hear to it. So you 
and I are alone in the house, Miss, and I am cook and 
housemaid and all for to-day.” 

“ The Eistedfodd is a sort of protracted musical con- 
cert, is it not ?” inquired Beatrix. 

“ Yes, Miss. It lasts three days. This is the last day. 
And they have music, both playing and singing, and 
choruses from different societies, and harp-music, and 
samples of the old Welsh minstrelsy. Oh, it’s all very 
fine, and I always like to go myself, but one or two of 
those strapping girls should have stayed at home. The 
men are all gone too, except Jones, and he is going this 


The Peddler . 


361 


evening after feeding and housing the stock, and hell 
stay at Bala till morning.” 

The prospect of a day of complete quiet struck Bea- 
trix more pleasantly than it did Esther. The young 
lady ate her breakfast, went out for a walk, and finally 
returned and took possession of a seat in the garden, in 
the shade of a wide-branched apple-tree. She had sev- 
eral rough sketches which required touching up, and 
she set to. work upon them, keeping a look-out upon the 
green lane which led to the house from the highway. 

She more than half expected her lover upon this 
morning. It was more than a week since she had writ- 
ten to him. There had been ample time for her letter 
to be forwarded to him from Folliott Court, were he 
anywhere in England. She had resolved to remain in 
the house or very near it, throughout the day. 

“ Something is going to happen. I feel it,” she said 
to herself. “ This day will not be eventless, like yester- 
day. Oh, if Lionel should come ! If Lady Folliott 
should have given her consent to our marriage !” 

Her cheeks flushed softly, and she bent more closely 
over her task. 

About one o'clock, Esther brought out Miss Rohan's 
dinner, and spread it upon a little table under the apple- 
tree. 

After the meal, Beatrix resumed her drawing, 

Esther finished her household work, and stood in the 
kitchen doorway, her eyes fixed upon the tawny little 
head gleaming amid the garden shrubbery, with an* 
expression of actual affection. Few people could live 
in the same house with Beatrix a week without learning 
to love her, and the fascination of her perfect courtesy, 
her gentleness and sweetness, had won Esther’s heart. 

The woman was tall, large and brawny, with a heavy 
face, and with dull sluggish eyes, a stolid, faithful crea- 


3 62 


Beatrix Rohan . 


ture, with a true and honest nature. Beatrix had liked 
her from the first. She was about to call to her now to 
come and share her retreat in the garden, when Esther, 
bethinking herself of the dogs, whom she had promised 
to feed, departed with a tray of meat in the direction of 
the kennels. 

The woman was returning with her empty tray 
towards the kitchen when she beheld a man with a 
pack on his back coming down the lane and approach- 
ing the farm-house. 

Beatrix saw him also and shrank nearer to the trunk 
of the apple-tree, around which the bench on which she 
sat formed a circle. With her black dress, she was 
likely to escape the casual observation of a stranger. 

It so happened that peddlers were always welcome to 
Trevor Farm. The women servants were glad of the 
chance to buy needles and threads and tapes, to say 
nothing of a gay ribbon, a vail, or a handkerchief of a 
wandering merchant at their door. Bala was twelve 
miles distant, and some trifle was always wanting 
among so many. And more than one gown and set of 
Brummagem jewelry had enterprising peddlers per- 
suaded the Trevor Farm housemaids to buy of them. 
Even Mrs. Trevor had availed herself of their stock in 
trade more than once. 

Esther hurried to put her tray into the scrullery and 
to find her purse. By the time these preparations were 
made the peddler had turned into the Trevor grounds, 
following a path that skirted the flower-garden, and 
was approaching the kitchen door. 

Esther came out upon the steps and sat down. 

The peddler sent a swift glance about the dwelling 
and took off his hat, wiping the perspiration from his 
brows. 

It seemed as if he were unused to carrying a pack 


The Peddler . 


363 


and tramping rude mountain-roads. Esther saw, at the 
first look, that he was a stranger, that he was not one 
of those peddlers who came to Trevor Farm regularly 
with the changing seasons. 

He was tall and bent, and carried a staff. He had 
long gray hair, and a long gray beard completely con- 
cealed his mouth. His clothing was worn and shabby, 
and hung loosely upon him. He had heavy gray eye- 
brows, and from beneath them peered forth a pair of 
small gleaming eyes, like serpent’s eyes, full of evil 
purpose, keen and watchful — eyes which, if Beatrix had 
seen them, would have sent her forth again a fugitive ! 

He proceeded to undo the straps which confined his 
pack to his shoulders. 

“ Do you want anything to-day, lady ?’’ he said, glibly, 
in quite a professional way. “ I have walked from 
Bala since the dawn. Will you allow me to sit on your 
steps ?” 

“ Certainly," said Esther, flattered at being addressed 
as “ lady.” “ Why do you leave Bala before the Eisted- 
fodd is over ?’’ 

“ Because I’ve done a good business there already, 
and my partner remains there until to-morrow,” was 
the answer. “ My route lies in this direction. Will 
you have something ? I sell as cheap as anyone on the 
road — cheaper, in fact. I’m a regular Cheap John, and 
anything you may want I’ve got. Toilet articles, from 
hair brushes down to hair-pins ; ribbon from a 
penny a yard, up ; lace at the same prices ; Hamburg 
edgings, Berlin wools, canvas patterns, trimmings ; pins 
needles, hooks and eyes, rufflings and buttons ; pocket 
knives and razors ; toilet soaps and perfumes ; gloves 
and handkerchiefs ; collars and neckties : everything in 
fact, that any one can wish for." 

While enumerating the articles composing his stock, 


3 6 4 


Beatrix Rohan . 


he had dropped the pack upon the porch, and unlocked 
it. Esther engaged in an examination of his goods 
with all the interest of a country-woman who seldom 
visits a shop. She wanted gloves, a collar, and 
some hair-pins ; and now began a lengthened trade, the 
peddler naming his prices, which were certainly very 
low, and Esther stating how much she would give. 
The two haggled over the discrepancy for several 
minutes, the peddler finally yielding, and selling his 
wares below their actual cost. 

“ Isn’t there something more lady ?” asked the pedd- 
ler. “ Here’s something you ought to have,” and he 
displayed a red scarf. “ Only five-and-six, and it cost 
me five shillings, on my honor.” 

“ I’ll give you four for it,” said Esther. 

“And I’m to lose a shilling? No, lady ; but I’ll tell 
you what I’ll do. I’ll give it to you for four shillings, 
if you’ll throw me in a little lunch. I’m terrible hun- 
gry.” 

Esther assented, going into the kitchen. The peddler 
sat down on the steps and looked furtively around him. 

“This must be the place,” he said to himself. “ This 
must be Trevor Farm !” 

Esther returned with a loaf of bread, a bowl of milk, 
and a portion of cold meat pie. The peddler took them 
from her hands, declining her offer of water and a towel, 
and ate them slowly, keeping up a conversation the 
while. 

“ This is a fine old place, lady,” he said. “ May I ask 
if this is Trevor Farm ?” 

“ Yes, it’s Trevor Farm,” assented Esther. 

“ Is the Squire at home ? I have as fine a razor here 
as can be found in all Britain.” 

“ The master is gone to Swansea for his health,” said 
unsuspicious Esther, frankly. “ The mistress went with 


The Peddler . 


365 


him. I’m only a sort of housekeeper. I was left in 
charge during the absence of the master and mistress.” 

A quick, odd gleam was emitted from the peddler’s 
serpent-like eyes. 

“ Gone away ?” he muttered. “Then I can’t hope to 
sell them anything. But how about the servants ? 
Won’t the cook and the housemaid, or the dairymaids 
have a look at my goods ?” 

“ They are all gone to Bala to the Eistedfodd,” said 
Esther. “ We are all alone in the house, me and my 
young lady. Only Jones is about somewhere, but he 
won’t buy anything.” 

The peddler bent low over his plate. 

“Then Jones don’t see the Eistedfodd ?” he asked. 
“ That’s a pity. There’s to be a grand concert this 
evening.” 

“Jones is going to it,” declared Esther. “Catch one 
of those servants staying away, if he could possibly go. 
But the other servants will be back soon after nightfall, 
else we should be alone in the house to-night, me and 
our young lady. They are to start for home when Jones 
arrives at Bala, and not before, so I shall start him off 
early.” 

“ And why won’t they start for home till Jones appears 
at Bala ?” asked the peddler, curiously. 

Because they would like to stay the night at Bala, 
and because they promised a sixpence each, three shil- 
lings in all, to Jones, if he’d stay and protect the house 
and leave them holiday till morning,” explained Esther. 
“ Jones half-consented, and it was agreed that, that if he 
didn’t arrive at Bala by seven o’clock, they would con- 
clude that he had accepted the three shillings and stayed 
at home. But, if he does appear there, some or all of 
the older servants will come home immediately.” 

“Avery nice plan,” said the peddler. “But Jones 


Beatrix Rohan . 


366 


ought to go. The concert will be too fine to miss. 
Every Welshman with a soul in him, no matter what 
his station or education, should attend the Eistedfodd. 
You spoke of your young lady. Will Miss Trevor want 
anything in my line ?” 

“ My young lady is not Miss Trevor, and I won’t call 
her,” said Esther, with sudden reserve, having an ink- 
ling of Beatrix’s history. “ She won’t want anything, I 
know.” 

The peddler did not follow up the subject of the 
young lady. Finishing his luncheon, he repacked his 
goods, and restored the pack to his back. 

As he stood up, his wandering gaze rested for an 
instant upon the tawny head of Beatrix, who sat in the 
garden, her back toward him. 

A quick and savage gleam shone in his serpent eyes, 
which had grown cool again, but he did not otherwise 
betray emotion at sight of her. 

Bidding Esther good-day, he turned to go. Pausing 
as in indecision on the walk, he beheld Jones through 
the open gate of the stable-yard, and turned his steps in 
that direction. He passed the dog-kennels on his way, 
and halted and stared at the powerful brutes for a full 
moment in a reflective sort of way, and then approached 
Jones, who was standing still, awaiting him. 

He offered his wares for sale, much as he had done 
with Esther, but Jones did not become a purchaser. 
The peddler then spoke of the Eistedfodd, of the crowds 
in attendance, of the grand concert in prospect for that 
evening ; and Jones listened eagerly, his look of indeci- 
sion giving place to one of determination. 

“ I’m going over myself,” he said. “ I shall leave 
here at five o’clock, so as to be in time for the concert.” 

The peddler smiled under his gray beard as he 
quitted the yard and walked out into the lane again 
r 


Voes Mantle Falls upon Another . 36 7 


moving towards the mountain road, but his smile was 
evil. His hanging underlip quivered strangely as he 
muttered : 

“ So far, good ! The girl is there ! The house must 
be left unprotected to-night. Jones must be disposed 
of. The dogs also. There will then be but the two 
women in the house. We shall manage it ! Beatrix 
little dreams what the next few hours have in store for 
her !” 


CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

VOE’s MANTLE FALLS UPON ANOTHER. 

In her amazement at the announcement of the land- 
steward that a man had been found murdered in 
Folliott Park, Lady Foilliott did not even bestow one 
glance upon the false Miss Bermyngham. 

Nor did the land-steward look toward her. He was 
full of his ghastly discovery, horrified and frightened, 
and greatly excited. 

The impostor, in spite of her self-schooling, in spite 
of the fact that she had been expecting that very 
announcement from the very hour of her crime, had 
been none the less startled by it. The blood had seemed 
to surge backwards through her veins, damming up her 
heart. She felt stupefied, benumbed, paralyzed. Her 
black, staring eyes were fixed upon the steward with a 
look of dread terror. 

“ What is that you say, Lambton ?'* cried the baron- 
ess, sharply. “ A man found dead in the park ? Impos- 
sible !” 

“ He was discovered by the park-keepers not an hour 


3 68 


Beatrix Rohan. 


ago, my lady,” said the land-steward, excitedly. “ He 
was murdered — stabbed to the heart ! He must have 
been dead a day or two !” 

By this time the false Miss Bermyngham had 
recovered from the shock Mr. Lambton’s first words 
had caused her and now sat down in a large, high- 
backed chair, keeping her face in the shadow. 

“What curious story is this?” demanded Lady Fol- 
liott, by no means comprehending the truth as stated 
to her. “ Who is the man ? One of the park-keepers ?” 

“ No, my lady, he’s an ill-looking fellow, a stranger 
here. No one seems to know anything about him. 
Thomas, the under-keeper, came upon the body less 
than an hour ago. It is in a thicket on the south-east 
side, near the Cedar clump. Who the man is, how he 
came there, and who killed him, are all alike a mystery.” 

“Perhaps he committed suicide?” suggested the 
false Miss Bermyngham, in her usual voice. 

“ If he had committed suicide the knife would be 
there,” declared Mr. Lambton. “ I was in my own 
house at the other end of the park, at my luncheon, when 
one of the keepers came for me. By the time I arrived 
at the scene all the laborers on the estate within a radius 
of a half-mile were gathered there. I sent over to Folliott 
Fens to notify the coroner. The body lies as we found 
it, except that it lay on its face, and we turned it over 
to make sure that he was dead. There will be an 
inquest this afternoon, I suppose. It won’t take long 
to impanel a jury and get at some of the facts in the 
case.” 

“ But what a frightful occurrence !” said Lady 
Folliott, shuddering. “ A man found dead in the park? 
Murdered ? Mr. Lambton, you should have requested 
to see me alone. Miss Bermyngham should not have 
heard this ghastly story.” 


Voe's Mantle Falls upon Another. 369 


“ I must have heard it from others in the course of a 
day or two, Aunt Folliott,” said the impostor, compos- 
edly. “ It has not injured me at all. My heart beats 
as calmly as ever. It isn’t as if I had ever seen the 
man, you know, dear.” 

“ No, of course not,” assented Lady Folliott. “ Mr. 
Lambton, I am all impatient to hear more about this 
affair. The murderer — if the man has really been mur- 
dered — must be discovered. Go back to the park, and 
return from time to time with news. Hasten to let me 
know the decision of the coroner’s jury.” 

The land-steward bowed assent and hurried away as 
rapidly as ne had come. 

As he had said, the Folliott Fens coroner had been 
notified of the mysterious affair, and in the course of an 
hour was upon the scene attended by a crowd of vil- 
lagers. A coroner’s jury was hastily impaneled. The 
position of the dead body was minutely examined, the 
park was scoured in that vicinity for some further clue 
to the tragedy, and the ground was scrutinized for 
signs of a struggle. 

The park-keepers who had discovered the body had 
completely obliterated such marks if there had origin- 
ally been any. No suspicious footprints were discov- 
ered. The man lay there dead, but how he came to his 
death could be ascertained by no signs other than those 
found upon the body itself. 

By order of the coroner, the body was picked up by 
two stalwart men and laid upon a hurdle. Four men 
undertook to transport this ghastly burden to the vil- 
lage, and, guarded by the coroner’s jury and the park 
laborers, and followed by the curious crowd of villagers 
the body of Caspar Voe was slowly conveyed to the 
Marquis of Granby Inn, at which he had stopped, and 


370 


Beatrix Rohan. 


from which he had stolen forth secretly upon the night 
in which he had gone to his death. 

Arrived at the inn, the body was placed upon a table 
in the parlor, and the inquest began, the villagers 
crowding around, full of awe at the mystery which was 
unparalled in all their experience. 

The coroner was a small shopkeeper, of ordinary 
intelligence, and the proceedings were conducted by 
him with due regard to order. 

In the first place, the landlord of the inn, recognizing 
the hideous, scarred face with its single eye, testified 
that the deceased had been a guest in his house only 
two days before, that he had registered his name as 
Caspar Voe, that he had arrived in the carrier’s cart 
from Spalding, and that he seemed cheerful and well, 
that he had eaten heartily, and that he had retired early 
to bed on Thursday evening, saying that he was fatig- 
ued and must rest, as he should return to London on 
the following morning. He had requested to be called 
early, and had spoken for a place in the carrier’s cart on 
its return to Spalding. But when the landlord knocked 
on his door early the next morning, there had been no 
response. The landlord, fearing that something was 
wrong, after repeated assaults upon the door, had finally 
effected a violent entrance into the room. And then 
he had discovered that the bed had not been slept in, 
that the window was open, and the guest was gone. 
He had not seen him from the hour in which he, Voe, 
had gone up to his room until now when the said Voe 
lay before him stark and stiff in death. 

The hostler testified that on Wednesday morning, as 
he stood pumping water at the horse-trough, deceased, 
who had then newly-arrived at the inn, came out and 
made inquiry of him as to the distance to Folliott Court. 
The hostler had supposed from his dress and appearance 


Voes Mantle Falls upon Another. 371 


that he was some broken-down gentleman who had 
come to solicit pecuniary assistance from Lady Folliott. 
The hostler had called attention of deceased to the Fol- 
liott carriage over the way, and deceased had crossed 
the street and stared at Lady Folliott and her niece, 
Miss Bermyngham. Whether deceased had really 
applied to the ladies for help, the hostler did not know. 

It had become necessary in the investigation of the 
affair, to learn if Voe had really presented himself at 
Folliott Court, and the land-steward was dispatched to 
make the necessary inquiries. 

When Mr. Lambton returned to the inn, he was seated 
in the Folliott carriage with Lady Folliott, the false 
Miss Bermyngham, Finette the impostor’s maid, and the 
hall-porter who had admitted Voe on the occasion of 
his open visit to the Court. 

Place was made for the baroness and her party, and 
chairs were given them. Lady Folliott had chosen to 
come in person to the inn, and the impostor had insisted 
upon accompanying her. Calm and untroubled was 
the pretty pink-and-white face of the pretended India 
heiress ; she looked a little haughty, a little disdainful, 
somewhat wondering ; but there was nothing in her 
appearance to indicate that a guilty soul lay beneath 
that snowy robe — that an unquiet heart beat under 
those laces and embroideries. 

The hall-porter testified that the deceased had come 
to Folliott Court and had demanded to see Miss Ber- 
myngham ; that Miss Bermyngham’s maid had come 
down to him and sent him away, and that he had not 
presented himself at Folliott Court thereafter. 

Finette, the maid, testified to the same effect, that she 
had gone down to see the deceased ; that he had made 
inquiries concerning a former maid of Miss Bermyng- 
ham, who had died upon her arrival in London from 


37 2 


Beatrix Rohan . 


India, and that, on hearing of said maid’s death, he had 
shown surprise and grief, appearing to be shocked, and 
had gone away in a sort of stupor. 

Lady Folliott and the false Miss Bermyngham both 
testified that they had not seen the deceased and knew’ 
nothing concerning him. 

They then departed as they had come. 

The testimony that succeeded was that of the keepers 
who had found the body, and of the village physician 
who was called in to examine it. 

But their testimony proved only that the man had 
been foully murdered. If the knife with which the 
deed had been committed had been left in the body, 
the case might possibly have been deemed one of sui- 
cide ; but under the circumstances, there could be but 
one verdict. 

And that verdict was that the deceased had come to 
his death by knife-wounds inflicted by some person to 
the coroner’s j ury unknown. 

An examination of the few effects — a worn bag, with 
a shirt or two in it — and of the pockets of the deceased 
threw no fresh light upon the subject. The man had 
died possessed of but a few shillings, not enough to pay 
his funeral expenses. 

“ He will have to be buried in a pauper’s grave,” 
said the doctor. “ The matter must be attended to at 
once.” 

The afternoon had been consumed in investigations, 
and the night was now coming on. Just as the jury 
were about to disperse, the carrier’s cart came rolling into 
the paved court-yard of the inn, and a single passenger 
alighted. The landlord, alive to his own interests, des- 
pite the tragedy absorbing his mind, hastened to meet 
him. 

The new-comer was a short, stout man, with a smooth 


Voes Mantle Falls upon Another. 373 


and beardless face and a narrow forehead, a man with 
a dissipated appearance, whose new clothing, and the 
heavy gold watch-chain he displayed, could not make 
him look respectable. 

“ Are you the landlord ?” asked this personage, 
addressing his host. “ My name is Gordon Hyslop, sir. 
I wish to see my cousin who is stopping here — Mr. Cas- 
par Voe.” 

The landlord’s amazement betrayed itself in his 
countenance. 

“ Are you Mr. Voe’s cousin he exclaimed. “ And 
you have come to see him ? How strange ! How very 
strange !” 

“ I see nothing strange in it,” said the new-comer, 
testily. “ The strangeness is in your conduct. Be good 
enough to inform Mr. Voe immediately of my presence 
here — or, better still, take me to him !” 

The landlord conducted Mr. Hyslop away from the 
gathering crowd into a little private room. 

“ My dear sir,” he said, solemnly, “ prepare yourself 
for bad news. Your cousin, Mr. Voe, is dead !” 

“ Dead ! Impossible !” 

“ Murdered !” said the landlord, in a tragic whisper. 
“ He was found this very day in Folliott Park, dead — 
murdered !” 

“ Murdered ?” 

“ His body lies in the parlor. The coroner’s jury has 
just fetched in a verdict of murdered by parties 
unknown,” said the landlord. 

Mr. Hyslop was naturally shocked. His face, ruddy 
by nature, was very pale. He seemed scarcely able to 
credit the landlord’s words. 

“ Murdered !” he repeated. “ Take me to him - . 
There may be some mistake of identity. Take me to 
see him !” 


374 


Beatrix Rohan. 


The landlord complied. The room in which the 
inquest had been held was deserted now, and the dead 
body lay on the table, covered over with a sheet. 

Gordon Hyslop turned down the covering from the 
face and looked upon it with emotion. There could be 
no mistake in Voe’s identity. His disfigured counten- 
ance would have been recognized anywhere by one who 
had once seen it. 

“ Who could have killed him ?" said Hyslop, hoarsely. 
“Tell me all about it, landlord." 

The innkeeper rehearsed a large share of the testi- 
mony bit by bit. Hyslop added now and then a ques- 
tion, but for the most part was silent. 

When the landlord had concluded, Hyslop said 
quietly : 

“ Be good enough to prepare a room for me. I shall 
stay a few days. I wish to see the undertaker pres- 
ently. My cousin shall have a decent burial at my 
expense. And now leave me alone with him for a few 
moments." 

The landlord went out. Hyslop looked down upon 
the ghastly dead face with tears in his eyes. 

He knew the whole story of Caspar Voe’s life, how he 
had sinned and been sinned against. He knew that he 
had come to England in search of the guilty woman, 
who, it was supposed, had assumed the name and dis- 
guise of Agatha Walden. Like Voe, before his appear- 
ance at Folliott Court, Hyslop had not heard of the 
death of “ Agatha Walden." He knew that Voe had 
believed his guilty wife to be at Folliott Court still, as 
Miss Bermyngham’s maid, and he also believed it. And 
therefore be leaped to a conclusion which, if he had 
known more of the case, would not have occurred to 
him. In his very ignorance he arrived at a conviction 
of the truth. 


Drawing in the Net. 


375 


“This is more of that devil’s work!” he muttered. 
“ She killed his child. She disfigured and mutilated 
him, and tried to kill him. She is hidden at Folliott 
Park under her disguise. She saw Voe, lured him to a 
secret meeting on some pretence or other, and has 
killed him. He shall not die unavenged ! I will devote 
myself from this moment to her destruction. Lilias 
Voe, the hour of your punishment draws near !” 


CHAPTER XXXIX. 

DRAWING IN THE NET. 

At five o’clock of the long midsummer afternoon, 
Jones, the farm-servant who had been left in charge of 
the out-door affairs of Trevor Farm during the absence 
of his fellow-laborers at the Eistedfodd, had finished his 
tasks, and was ready for his pleasuring. He had put on 
his Sunday garments, and, precisely as the clock struck 
the hour, he drove out of the stable-yard in a two- 
wheeled cart, drawn by a rough little pony. 

As he cast a glance toward the dwelling, Esther the 
housekeeper came running swiftly toward him, com- 
manding him by a gesture to stop. 

“ I’m sorry you’re going, Jones,” she said, breathless 
and panting. “ You’d better have taken the three shil- 
lings you were offered to stay at home.” 

“ And is that all you’re wanting to say to me ?” 

“ No. I want you to send the other servants home 
the minute you arrive at Bala. It’s lonely for the 
young lady and me in this empty house. Tell them 
they must be home by nine o’clock. Belike they’ll try 


376 


Beatrix Rohan . 


to avoid seeing you and make pretence that they 
thought you had accepted their offer and were intend- 
ing to remain here yourself over night.” 

“ I’ll be sharp enough for them, missus,” responded 
Jones. “ They’ll be along here soon after nine o’clock. 
But if there should be any delay, you can let the dogs 
out, you know, and feel as safe as if a troop of soldiers 
were guarding the house. But if I am to get to Bala 
early, I must be off early.” 

He touched his pony lightly with the whip and drove 
away. 

Esther slowly returned to the house. 

Jones drove down the green lane and turned into the 
rugged mountain road. There were two roads leading 
to Bala, one being more direct than the other. But this 
direct road traversed certain rickety bridges, and there 
had been frequent storms of late, and the streams were 
swollen, and Jones fancied that he had heard that one 
of the bridges had been carried away by a freshet. 

“ That road is so little traveled, on account of its 
roughness, that I can’t be sure about the bridges,” he 
said to himself. “ I might possibly have to go miles up 
or down the stream to find another bridge or a ford, 
and so find that the more haste the less speed, and the 
longest way round is the surest way home. No ; to be 
on the safe side I’ll take the usual route.” 

He pursued his journey by the more frequented road, 
keeping his pony at a steady jog. If the more direct 
road were too rough and steep for heavy loads, the 
same might also be said of this route. But Jones was 
used to these hills and hollows, and did not even think 
of them, as he hurried on toward the scene of fes- 
tivities. 

At a distance of some four miles from Trevor Farm, 


Drawing in the Net. 


377 


the road passed through a thickly-grown wood ; which 
even at mid-day, was dark and gloomy. 

Jones was in the midst of this gloom when his horse 
halted abruptly. The man struck him and the animal 
reared and plunged, but resolutely refused to advance 
a single step. 

Jones leaned forward and stared into the road. A 
tree that had been recently felled lay across its path, 
its branches reaching upward and outward in all direc- 
tions. 

“ A narrow escape,” the man muttered. “ Strange I 
didn’t see it ! What a singular accident ! What am I 
to do ? Can I move the tree ? I wish I had taken the 
other road after all !” 

Grumbling at his luck, he descended from his vehicle 
and proceeded to investigate the obstacle. 

As he tugged and pulled at the fallen tree with 
unavailing effort, two men, with black masks upon 
their faces, started up from the wayside shrubbery, and 
bounded towards him. 

They held in their hands pistols which were pointed 
at the luckless pleasure-seeker in a manner that made 
his teeth chatter. 

Poor Jones could scarcely believe his own eyesight. 
The adventure was precisely like many of which he 
had heard in his boyhood — adventures in which gentle- 
men had been stopped by highwaymen and offered an 
alternative between death and rendering up their 
purses. 

But in these days of steam railways, and telegraphs, 
of policemen and increased civilization, there were no 
longer highwaymen. And if there were, Jones was 
only a poor farm servant, with never at the most, more 
than a few shillings in his pocket. He would have 


37 § 


Beatrix Rohan. 


tried to explain this, but the unprecedented character 
of the adventure held him dumb. 

Contrary to his expectations, the two masked men 
did not demand his “ money or life.” But one came 
upon either side of him and seized his arms, and, still 
presenting those formidable pistols at him, marched 
him into the edge of the wood. 

The fellow’s knees trembled ; his tongue clove to the 
roof of his mouth. He gasped for breath, fiut not did 
he find voice until the men produced ropes and began 
to tie him to a tree in the midst of a thicket, and then 
he managed to falter : 

“ Oh, gentlemen, this is some mistake. I am not the 
person you want. I am not a gentleman. I have got 
no money. I’m only a poor farm laborer. I’ve got 
five and sixpence ha’penny in my pocket. Take that 
and let me go. I am not the man you’re looking 
for.” 

“ Oh, you’re not,” said one of the masked men, in a 
scoffing voice. “ And what might your name be ?” 

“ It’s Jones — Timothy Jones,” cried the poor fellow, 
eagerly. “ I work at Trevor Farm.” 

” Come, come, shut up, or it’ll be the worse for you,” 
said the masked man who had before spoken. “ Keep 
quiet, or you’ll see trouble !” 

And, despite Jones' entreaties and expostulations 
his prayers and tears, he was bound securely to the 
tree, hand and foot, and in a manner beyond his great- 
est possible efforts to undo. 

And now the poor fellow bethought himself of a 
fresh argument by which to move the hearts of his 
strange assailants. 

“ Let me go,” he said, pleadingly. “ If I don’t arrive 
at Bala, the farm-servants will remain there all night, 
thinking me at the farm. And the house will be 


Drawing in the Net. 


37 9 


unguarded, and Esther and the young lady will die of 
fear, and I shall lose my situation, and — ” 

“ Shut up !” said his enemy — the one who had hither- 
to addressed him. “ If you cry out, or say another 
word, you’re a dead man !” 

Jones became mute as if dead. 

Nevertheless, the two men fitted a gag into his mouth 
to render his silence lasting and having looked again 
to his bonds, returned to the highroad. 

Jones’ horse was still standing where he had been 
left. The men led him with the cart also into the wood 
and secured him to a tree in the vicinity of his late 
driver. 

“ A high-handed proceeding, this,” said one of the 
masked men to the other, as they returned to the road. 
“ But we’ve done no harm to that coward, and, thanks 
to our masks and his terror, he could never identify 
us.” 

“ High-handed, sure enough,” replied the other ; 
“ but not much worse than things which college youths 
do now and then. We’ve done cleverly. The farm- 
house will be unguarded for the night. Success de- 
pends upon ourselves.” 

“ We must go back to Bala for the close carriage we 
want. This tree in the road here will not prove so 
great an obstacle to us as to Jones. Take hold with me 
and we’ll make room for a carriage to pass at that other 
side. Our axes are under that tree yonder.” 

A few minutes' labor sufficed to clear the road suf- 
ficiently to admit the passage of a carriage. 

“ And now,” said the elder of the two men, judging 
his age by his movements, “ we must return to Bala, 
dine, visit the Eistedfodd to ward off any suspicion that 
we are not regular visitors to the concerts, and about 
dusk well return with a close carriage. We must be 


3 8 ° 


Beatrix Rohan. 


wary, prudent, and not too hasty in our actions. We 
have taken the first step towards complete success.” 

They hurried down the road for a little distance to a 
spot where a dog-cart was awaiting them, removed 
their masks and climbed into the vehicle, setting out at 
a brisk pace towards Bala. 

As the reader has suspected, the faces now revealed 
to the light by the withdrawal of the masks, were the 
faces of Colonel Brand and Randall Brand. 

The success with which Beatrix had eluded them 
since her escape at the Chateau Valbeck, had at last 
driven them to desperation. They had arrived at such 
a pass that no slight obstacle would be permitted to 
stand in their way, as witness their attack upon poor 
Jones, and the disposition they had made of the 
unhappy fellow. 

Their plans had been laid with the greatest care, but 
with a boldness that even surprised themselves. That 
night was to behold an attempt upon Beatrix’s liberty 
such as they had never dared before, and would not 
now have dared but for the loneliness of Trevor Farm, 
and the fact that the farm-servants were, with a single 
exception, away from their posts. 

The manner in which they had again discovered 
Beatrix’s refuge will be doubtless understood, almost 
without explanation. 

Sir Lionel Charlton had hastened back to Durham, 
and found that Beatrix had again fled. No one could 
give him any clue to her movements. His inquiries 
were everywhere fruitless. Under the new relations 
between Beatrix and himself, he knew that she would 
hasten to communicate with him ; and even thought it 
probable that she had gone to Folliott Court. He 
returned thither with all speed, but found that she was 
not there, and that no message had arrived from her. 


Drawing in the Net. 381 


A horrible fear that her enemies might have discov- 
ered and captured her prevented his remaining at Fol- 
liott Court a single hour. Bidding Lady Folliott, if 
any letter or message came for him, to open it at once 
and telegraph its purport to him, at Durham, he again 
departed. 

The next day, arrived Beatrix’s letter addressed to 
him, which the younger Mrs. Trevor had posted in 
London. 

Lady Folliott opened the letter in the false Miss Ber- 
myngham’s presence, and read a portion of it aloud. 
Her ladyship hastened to telegraph Beatrix’s address 
to her nephew ; but he, fancying that he had obtained a 
clue, had altered his course and gone up to London, to 
the house of his former tutor, to whom he deemed it 
more than possible Beatrix might now have gone. 

Some days were lost by him in this manner, and then 
he returned to Durham, finding there Lady Folliott’s 
telegram. He turned about at once for the south- 
ward. 

Meanwhile the false Miss Bermyngham had been 
swift to do evil. She had posted letters to Colonel 
Brand, in the assumed character of illiterate “Ann 
Jones,” addressing one missive to his lodgings in Lon- 
don and another to Durham, giving him Beatrix's new 
address. 

And one of these letters had been swifter in the ful- 
filment of its mission than Lady Folliott’s telegram to 
Sir Lionel. Mrs. Brand was still at Durham, but alone, 
and did not receive the letter addressed to her husband. 
Colonel Brand and his son had gone back to London to 
pursue their search in that direction, had promptly 
received the letter sent thither, and had acted upon the 
information it contained without an hour’s delay. 

While these disagreeable experiences were happen- 


382 


Beatrix Rohan. 


ing to poor Jones, and Beatrix’s enemies were closing 
in their net around their unconscious prey, all was going 
on well at Trevor Farm. 

Esther served a delicious little supper to the young 
lady, and afterward Beatrix walked in the garden until 
the night began to fall. 

Then the housekeeper lighted the sitting-room lamp, 
and, leaving the windows still ajar, passed in and out, 
busied with her duties, yet mindful of the young girl’s 
comfort, and ministering to it in an unobtrusive way. 

Nine o’clock, and no sign of the returning servants. 
At half-past nine Esther began to grow anxious. At 
ten she became nervous and uneasy, and closed up the 
house for the night. 

“ Strange they don’t come,” she said, at last giving 
vent to her uneasiness in words, as she entered the sit- 
ting-room where Beatrix sat reading. “ I’m afraid Miss, 
that those servants are playing a trick on me, and mean 
to stay at Bala till morning, notwithstanding their prom- 
ise to return to-night.” 

“Perhaps something has happened to Jones,” sug- 
gested Beatrix. “ His horse might have run away.” 

Esther smiled, despite her increasing uneasiness. 

“ His horse was twenty years old, wouldn’t take fright 
at an earthquake,” she asserted. “ Jones wouldn’t dare 
take one of the master’s best horses, and the others took 
the best working ones. Nothing has happened the horse 
but its those servants ! Belike they meant to stay away 
all night. They were precious eager to have Jones stay 
here in their place.” 

By half-past ten Esther had made up her mind that 
the servants would not return that night. 

“ I’ll let out the dogs,” she said. “ They will protect 
us safely. We’ve no occasion to be anxious. Just slip 
the bolt after me, Miss, It’s well to be cautious.” 


Drawing in the Net. 


383 


The night was coming on pitch-dark. Esther lighted 
a lantern and went out, Beatrix locking the door behind 
her. Scarcely a minute had passed when the sound of 
flying feet was heard without and Esther beat fiercely 
on the door, crying out: 

“ Let me in! Quick! let me in!’" 

Beatrix opened the door, and as quick as thought 
Esther rushed in, and barred and bolted it. Then the 
housekeeper flew to the windows and the other doors 
throughout the lower portion of the house and made 
sure that not one of them had been overlooked. Then 
she returned to Beatrix, who still stood in the kitchen, 
full of amazement, and whispered shrilly : 

“ There’s something up, Miss. Don’t cry out ! Don’t 
make a noise !” 

“ What is it ?” 

“As I neared the kennels,” said Esther, looking about 
her with a peering, frightened glance, “ I fancied I saw 
two men in the stable-yard. I called to them, but they 
didn't answer.” 

“ It must be the servants who have returned — ” 

“ If it were the servants, wouldn’t they answer ? 
Would they skulk in the darkness and be frightened of 
me ? I was startled, but I fancied that it might be 
Owen and Grant, and that they might be playing a trick 
on me. So I turned to the kennels and thrust my 
lantern in. Miss, them two hounds were dead !” 

“ What !” said Beatrix, taking a step backwards. 
“ Dead !” 

“ Yes, Miss, and the froth on their mouths and their 
doubled-up shapes showed as they’d died of poison !” 

Beatrix was startled by this announcement, and her 
thoughts flew to her enemies. 

“ What can it mean, Esther ?” she asked. 

“ It means mischief !” said Esther, briefly. “ The 


3^4 


Beatrix Bohan. 


men I saw mean harm to this house. The dogs are 
dead. The servants are away. There’s a set of silver 
that has belonged to the Trevors for a hundred years, 
in the plate closet, and mistress’ apostle spoons, and the 
baby’s cosset cup, and the big tankard— all sterling, and 
some rogues, knowing that the house is unguarded 
except by me, have planned a robbery.” 

“ Is that all, Esther ? Do you think that’s all ?” 

“ Isn’t that enough ?” demanded the housekeeper. 

“ A robbery, Miss ! Think of that ! And we may be 
murdered ! If there were any near neighbors — but 
there are none. We can’t abandon the house. We 
can’t leave it even. No doubt the scoundrels are out- 
side at this moment. We are like mice in a trap.” 

“ The servants may return at any moment — ” 

“ No such good luck !” said Esther, grimly. “ We 
have got to depend upon ourselves. Now what are we 
to do ?” 

But Beatrix was too perplexed to offer advice, or take 
the direction of affairs just yet. She believed the prow- 
lers to be her enemies. 

“ If they mean to attack the house, why did they kill 
the dogs, who were safe in their kennels ?” she asked. 

“That’s where they showed their wisdom. Those 
hounds would have broken out and taken part in any 
affray at the first scream from us. The rogues would 
feel safer with the dogs dead. But I can’t help but 
think they didn’t mean us to know that the dogs were 
killed. They must have meant to take us by surprise. 
Perhaps they foresaw that I would go out to free the 
hounds, and they meant to be lurking just outside the 
door and slip in during my absence !” 

This was presicely what the Brands had intended. 
Esther's discovery of the death of the hounds had come 
before they were quite prepared for it. 


Closing In . 


385 


Beatrix fancied at this juncture that she heard stealthy 
steps outside. She held up her finger, enjoining silence 
upon Esther. A rustling was heard upon the other side 
of the door. Someone was evidently listening. 

The beleagued pair were still as death. 

Then followed a brief silence. 

And then, so suddenly as to startle the two pale 
women as if it had been the roar of a cannon, came a 
thundering knock upon the door ! 


CHAPTER XL. 

CLOSING IN. 

Lady Folliott had conceived a keen and remarkable 
interest in the affair of Caspar Voe. 

This might have been because the man had been 
found murdered in her own park. It might have been 
because women are fascinated by mystery, and this 
mystery seemed impenetrable. It might have been 
because, in all her life, she had never come in the slight- 
est possible contact with crime or criminals, that she 
had seen nothing whatever of the play of the worse 
passions of humanity ; and this case, through its very 
strangeness, engaged her thoughts and attention. 

Life was so monotonous at Folliott Court, with its 
breakfast, luncheon, and dinners, its walks and drives, 
its canvas embroidery, daily newspapers, and books, 
the usual daily conference with the housekeeper and 
land-steward, and with barely an event from one week’s 
end to another ; that the murder of this stranger 
became an absorbing topic of thought and conversation 


386 


Beatrix Rohan. 


with the baroness ; and the false Miss Bermyngham 
was doomed to hear endless speculations upon the sub- 
ject, and to be called upon continually for her opinion 
in the case. 

The land-steward had explained to Lady Folliott 
that she would not be called upon to appear at the in- 
quest, but she had persisted in going despite his coun- 
sels. Her rank, she exclaimed, did not exempt her from 
the common duties of humanity. Her hall-porter and 
Miss Bermyngham’s maid had been sent for. She 
deemed it her own duty to declare that this man had 
not come to her for aid and been turned away. And 
why should she hesitate to appear at the inquest ? The 
coroner, the jury, and the crowd of lookers-on, were all 
her tenants, people she had known always and who had 
always known her. She had addressed them more than 
once on festival occasions in her own grounds ; why 
hesitate to speak to them now in the inn, which was 
her own property ?” 

But, though she thus silenced her faithful land-stew- 
ard, Lady Folliott was not prepared to take her sup- 
posed niece with her. The impostor, desirous of hear- 
ing Finette’s testimony, pleaded and coaxed to be 
allowed to accompany her ladyship, and upon being 
refused in the tenderest manner had insisted upon 
going, employing a tone and manner so wilful and 
imperious as to completely silence the baroness. 

And thus it had happened that both ladies made 
their appearance, as we have described, in the in- 
quest-room. 

Upon their return to the Court, they retired to their 
separate rooms to dress for dinner, meeting in the 
drawing-room at the usual hour. 

Throughout that evening Lady Folliott was full of 
speculations in regard to Voe and his fate. 


Closing In. 


387 


“You see, my dear,” she said, “ this thing comes very 
near to us. This man was killed in Folliott Park, 
my own home grounds. His murderer doubtless 
belongs in this neighborhood. The murderer may be a 
villager at the Fens. Think of it. A man, perhaps, 
that I have spoken to ! Or he may be one of my own 
servants ! Is not the idea terrible ? Possibly a keeper, 
perhaps even a servant in this house ! The person who 
stabbed that poor man may be some one who enters my 
presence every day, to whom 1 speak very often, in 
whom I place confidence ! Why, the idea is frightful !” 

The impostor shuddered. Why did the baroness 
persist in talking upon this subject ? The guilty woman 
felt every word as a blow. 

“ The man was tall and well- formed,” said Lady 
Folliott, presently. “ He must have fought desperately. 
His murderer must have been a large, heavy man to 
have conquered and killed him. Nerea, I shall begin 
to suspect every keeper and servant about the estate, 
unless this mystery is cleared up. What was the cause 
of the murder ? Robbery ? The man was poor. His 
clothes showed that, and the footman took him for a 
genteel sort of beggar. Not robbery, then. Was he 
killed in a quarrel ? What was the quarrel about ? Who 
is there at the Fens or Court who carries daggers ?” 

The false Miss Bermyngham pushed her chair back 
into the shadow. 

Before Lady Folliott could pursue her speculations 
farther, Mr. Lambton, the land-steward, came in. The 
baroness bade him be seated, and said : 

“ I was just giving Miss Bermyngham my views of 
this case, Lambton. I fancy that I should have made a 
good detective officer. I have decided to my satisfac- 
tion that the man was not murdered for plunder. He 


3 88 


Beatrix Rohan . 


was certainly poor, unless he was a miser. Do you 
think he could have been killed in a quarrel ?’’ 

“ What was he doing in the park ?’’ said Lambton. 
“ What business had he there at night ? For he must 
have got out of his room at the inn and come straight 
to the park. The keepers were gone at dusk. It seems 
to me pretty clear that the fellow had an appointment 
there." 

“ With whom ?" asked the baroness, eagerly. 

“ That is the question. Now, I have a theory,” said 
the land-steward, thoughtfully. “ The man might have 
been a burglar, though he didn’t act like one, and no 
burglar’s tools have been discovered. He may have 
met some confederate in the park — have quarrelled 
with him, and got killed !’’ 

“ That is plausible !” said her ladyship. “ Our honest 
yeomen don’t carry knives like passionate Italians. 
Have they found the knife ?’’ 

“ No. The murderer probably took it away with 
him.’’ 

“ As a witness against him ?’’ said the baroness 
shrewdly. “ No ; you’re wrong there, my friend. He 
would not carry about with him the instrument of his 
crime. He would have flung it into some thicket, or 
into the lake. Let the park be searched to-morrow 
thoroughly." 

The guilty woman, all pink-and-white innocence, as 
she seemed, shuddered a little, but she did not believe 
the dagger would be found. She had thrown it far out 
in the water. And if it were found, who should prove 
that it had been hers ? Lady Folliott had seen it, and 
admired its jewel-crusted hilt, but even if Lady Folliott 
recognized it — should it be discovered — she would not 
dare betray her knowledge. Besides, the discovery of 
the knife in the lake would be no proof of its owner’s 


Closing In . 


389 


guilt. If it were found, and the ownership proved, 
she could pretend that it had been stolen from her. 

All these thoughts passed swiftly through the mind 
of the pretended India heiress, as she sat, apparently 
calm and unmoved, and deeply speculative. 

“ I will see that your ladyship’s orders are obeyed in 
the morning,” said Lambton, “ but I adhere to my 
opinion that the dagger is still in the possession of its 
owner. It would prove too tell-tale evidence if thrown 
away.” 

“ Very well, then. It doesn’t matter about the search, 
if nothing is to come of it,” said Lady Folliott, accept- 
ing Lambton ’s theory as actual evidence. “ Y ou needn’t 
give that order in the morning, Lambton. But there 
is one thing I am determined upon. My servants and 
tenants shall not lie under the cloud of suspicion, if I 
can help it. I desire you to issue handbills in the 
morning offering one hundred pounds reward for the 
apprehension of the murderer of Caspar Voe.” 

“ I will attend to the handbills, my lady.” 

“ As to the funeral expenses, Lambton, the man may 
have a family somewhere. He may have a wife, who 
will mourn his fate. See that he is decently buried at 
my expense.” 

“ As to the burial, my lady ” said the land-steward, 
“ that’s arranged. A cousin of this Caspar Voe arrived 
this evening in the carrier’s cart. He expected to find 
Voe alive and well, and is greatly shocked at his fate. 
He has arranged for the funeral.” 

“ A cousin of the murdered man here !” exclaimed 
the baroness. “ Who and what is he ?” 

The impostor said nothing. Her face was calm and 
impassive still ; her eyelids drooped over the hard, 
black eyes ; but with those words of Mr. Lambton, a 


390 


Beatrix Rohan. 


gloom settled down upon her guilty soul — a gloom that 
was like the shadow of approaching doom. 

“ His name is Hyslop,” replied Lambton. “ I have 
seen and conversed with him. He declares that Voe 
was the son of a gentleman, and that he has just arrived 
from India. He was in search of some one in this 
neighborhood.” 

“The son of a gentleman!” echoed Lady Folliott. 
“ He must have fallen very low.” 

“ He did. Hyslop told me the whole story. This 
Hyslop is evidently a dissipated fellow, but he is of a 
good family. His father was a physician of some local 
repute, and his mother has a small property in Lan- 
cashire. Hyslop returned with his cousin from India, 
the one in the second cabin, the other, Voe, before the 
mast. Hyslop showed considerable emotion in speaking 
of Voe. It seems that Voe’s father was a Lancashire 
curate, with a large family, that he had influential 
friends who assisted him to educate his children and 
procure appointments for them. This son, Caspar Voe, 
was sent out to India as some colonial magnate’s secre- 
tary. He did very well until he became enamored of a 
music-hall singer and second-rate actress, a beautiful, 
unscrupulous girl, whom he made his wife.” 

Lady Folliott glanced toward her supposed niece. 

“ No, there is nothing in the story which Miss Ber- 
myngham might not hear,” said the land-steward. 
“ His marriage cost him his situation. He became a 
clerk in a drygoods shop. His wife turned out frivo- 
lous, faithless, and altogether bad. She made him jeal- 
ous, and fretted and worried him until he took to drink 
and idleness. Still he loved her. A child was born to 
them. Finally, matters culminated. Of course, Voe 
had his faults. He was not good stuff to the backbone, 
or he would have set to work, let drink alone, and made 


Closing In. 


391 


himself master of his own household. He went down- 
hill rapidly. The culmination came in a quarrel 
between the pair, on his discovery of her utter worth- 
lessness, and when he had become stupefied with drink 
she tried to kill him. She stabbed him with a knife 
and disfigured him, making him the frightful object he 
has been described to you. She succeeded in killing 
her child. The murderess fled, leaving him for dead, 
and it was in pursuit of her that he came to England.” 

“ Why, this must be that case we read in the India 
Mail a long time ago, Nerea,” cried Lady Folliott. 
“ You remember how it interested us — the actress wife 
— and all ? She was so young. Surely you remem- 
ber ?” 

The false Miss Bermyngham bowed assent. She did 
not care to speak. 

“ How odd that the case which so interested me in 
the newspapers should come up again at my own door,” 
said the baroness. “ Did the poor creature — the wife — 
come to England, Lambton ?” 

“ It is supposed so, my lady. Voe and his cousin 
believed that she had disguised herself and taken 
another name — that she had come to England as a 
lady’s maid. He believed that she had assumed the 
name of Agatha Walden, and that she had come to 
England in the service of Miss Bermyngham.” 

The impostor affected a start. Lady Folliott 
expressed her astonishment. 

“ I cannot believe it,” said the usurper. “ Agatha 
Walden was a pale, quiet girl, one that would not harm 
a fly. She an actress ! She a bone of contention to 
lovers ! She a murderess ! Incredible !” 

“ She died suddenly, did she not, Nerea ?” 

“ Yes, Aunt Folliott, very suddenly. She brought me 
good references which satisfied me completely in regard 


392 


Beatrix Rohan . 


to her character, although I had not time to verify her 
recommendations. Whether she was this Voe woman 
in disguise, or an innocent girl, can never be known. 
She is dead and buried. Her history is dead with her.” 

“ I will tell Hyslop that she is dead and how she died,” 
said Mr. Lambton. “ He* will have it that she’s alive 
and here at Folliott Court, and that it was her hand that 
stabbed Voe the other night !” 

“ But has no one told him that Agatha Walden is 
dead ?” asked the false Miss Bermyngham, sharply. 

“He talked only with the landlord and me. I told 
him that Finette, the maid, had testified that the Wal- 
den woman was dead, whereupon he asserted his belief 
that Finette was Lilias Voe herself again disguised !” 

“ Does he think that I would connive at the disguise 
of Agatha Walden as a French maid ?” demanded the 
impostor, haughtily. “ His idea implies that there is a 
conspiracy in which I have part, for Finette could not 
be my former maid and I not know it. Besides, have I 
not said that Agatha Walden is dead ? I saw her die.” 

“ I beg your pardon, Miss Bermyngham,” said the 
land-steward, humbly. “ I but repeated his idea. He 
is at his wit’s end to account for this most unaccountable 
murder, and he thought — ” 

“ Never mind what he thought. What are such 
people’s thoughts to me ? His idea is grossly insulting 
to me. Under any and all circumstances, Aunt Folli- 
ott, I shall decline to see this man. I will not have him 
propounding his insulting queries to me.” 

The girl arose with the air of an outraged empress, 
and walked hurriedly towards the door. 

“ Is there anything else to be said ?” she asked, paus- 
ing with her hand on the knob. “ Has he said what he 
should do ?” 

“ Yes, he has sworn to revenge the murder of his 


Closing In. 


393 


cousin,” said Mr. Lambton. “ He means what he says. 
He hasn’t much money, he says, but he has an invin- 
cible will. He says that he knows that Agatha Wal- 
den is alive, and he means to find her.” 

The impostor made a motion as if to speak, thought 
better of it, took a turn or two across the room, and 
again paused by the door. 

“Tell this person,” she said, “that, first of all, he 
should go back to London and find the registry of 
Agatha Walden’s death and the record of her burial. 
The murderer of this Voe is no woman. A woman's 
hand could not kill a man so strong and large as this 
Voe. You, Mr. Lambton, are keener than they all. 
You have discovered the truth with your keen intui- 
tions. Voe must have been killed by some comrade in 
crime. For my part,” she added, wearily, “ I’m sick of 
hearing of this thing. The excitement is enough to kill 
us all.” 

With her hand to her heart, a gesture meant to 
impress upon Lady Folliott her — the girl’s — extreme 
fragility of constitution, and to remind her ladyship of 
the pretended heart-disease, the false Miss Bermyng- 
ham quitted the room, closing the door behind her. 

“ I fear this excitement ma}' harm the dear child,” 
said Lady Folliott, anxiously. “ I must really take her 
up to London immediately. I must go to her, Lamb- 
ton.” 

The land-steward arose. 

“ There’s but one thing more to say, my lady,” he 
remarked. “ The funeral is to be to-morrow. This 
man Hyslop has asked permission to visit Folliott 
Court the day after, without anyone being informed of 
his coming. He believes that he will find Agatha Wal- 
den — that is, Lilias Voe— among this household. He 
has expressed this opinion freely to the landlord. 


394 


Beatrix Rohan . 


Such things get repeated. Although it is almost impos- 
sible that the woman can be here, would it not be well 
to grant his request ? A refusal might subject us to 
gossip and misrepresentation — ” 

“ Yes, let him come. His visit shall be kept secret,” 
said Lady Folliott, moving towards the door. “ Of 
course, the woman is not here. I am sure that she is 
dead. Nerea could not have been imposed upon. But 
no obstacle shall be placed in his way. No one shall 
say that I have not opened my doors freely to investi- 
gation. Let him come — and we will see what the day 
shall bring forth.” 


CHAPTER XLT. 

THE DAGGER IDENTIFIED. 

The funeral of Caspar Voe was deferred some three 
or four days, for various reasons, and was then con- 
ducted with great solemnity, and was attended by all 
the villagers of Folliott Fens. Lady Folliott sent her 
carriage to join in the procession, and the ill-fated man, 
whose life had been such a wreck and failure, was 
buried in a remote corner of the village churchyard, 
no relative or friend other £han Hyslop witnessing his 
burial. 

After Gordon Hyslop had returned to the inn, upon 
the day of the funeral, Mr. Lambton called upon him, 
informing him that Lady Folliott had given her consent 
to his visit to Folliott Court upon the next day, and 
that opportunity would be given him to pass the entire 
household in review. 

“ My lady is very kind,” said Lambton, impressing 


The Dagger Identified. 


39.5 


upon Hyslop the extreme condescension of the baroness 
in allowing his investigation. “ This murder business 
had nearly made both the Court ladies ill, Miss Ber- 
myngham has heart-disease and has been confined 
to her room for several days. My lady will take her 
up to town in a day or two for medical advice.” 

“ I would like to see Miss Bermyngham, if only for a 
moment,” said Hyslop. “ I would like to ask her a few 
questions about that Agatha Walden. You see Mr. 
Lambton, Lilias Voe was a perfect serpent. She might 
have pretended to die, and have completely deceived 
Miss Bermyngham — ” 

“ But in that case Lilias Voe wouldn’t be at Folliot 
Court.” 

“ No. The thing is all a puzzle to me. Only one 
thing I don’t believe and that is that Lilias Voe is dead. 
And one thing that I do believe, and that is that 
Caspar Voe died by his wife’s hand. The woman may 
have followed him from London — Miss Bermyngham 
may believe her dead — I can’t form an idea of the truth 
but I mean to unravel it in the end. I think it possible 
that Lilias might have told her story in her own way — 
she’s full of guile, and would deceive a detective even — 
to Miss Bermyngham, and that lady may have been 
taken in with her tears and pretences, and be assisting 
her to hide. There’s my theory in a nutshell.” 

“ I can’t put faith in it.” 

“ Well, I do. If I could see Miss Bermyngham, if I 
could ask her about her maid’s death — ” 

“ But you can’t see her. She is not well, and the 
order is given that she is to hear no more of this affair.” 

“ I dare say I shall do as well without seeing her. 
My mind is fixed upon that Finette. I expect to find 
in her the woman I seek. But how am I to see the 
entire household ?” 


39 6 


Beatrix Rohan . 


“ You are to go as the bearer of a letter to me,” said 
the land-steward. “ I will be at Folliott Court, and the 
servants will think that you failed to find me at my 
own house, and so followed me to the Court. You will 
insist on delivering the letter into my own hands. 
You will present yourself at the servants’ door precisely 
at two o’clock, and make your way into the servants’ 
hall, where at that hour the servants are at dinner. 
You must then use your eyes.” 

“ The servants will be at their dinner in the servants’ 
hall at two o’clock,” repeated Hyslop, musingly. “ I 
will be there.” 

“ Lady Folliott’s maid and Miss Bermyngham’s maid 
dine at three o’clock with the housekeeper and butler, 
in the housekeeper’s room,” continued Lambton. “ I 
have been obliged to make a confident of the house- 
keeper, who will manage to have both the maids in her 
room when you call. After visiting the servants’ hall 
you will be shown into the housekeeper’s room, and I 
will come to you there. You see that we have yielded 
to your solicitations to see the Court servants. My hope 
and belief are that your examination of them will be 
vain ! It was no woman’s hand that killed Caspar Voe.” 

So the two men separated. Hyslop’s conviction that 
it was Lilias Voe who had murdered his cousin remained 
unshaken in spite of the evidence of her death. But the 
belief which he had avowed to Mr. Lambton — that Lilias 
Voe had told her story to Miss Bermyngham and enlist- 
ed the sympathy and protection of the great heiress — 
grew with further thought and deliberation. 

“ She’s a cunning devil, is Lilias,” he thought. “ She 
has deceived and hoodwinked this great heiress. If Miss 
Bermyngham knew the truth she’d throw Lilias over, 
and allow justice to take its course. I’ll see Miss Ber- 
myngham in spite of them all, if I have to follow her up 


The Dagger Identified \ 


397 


to London. I'll set the facts before her. She shall 
know who and what she is harboring. If she chooses 
then to protect and hide Lilias, she shall know that she 
is protecting a wilful murderess.” 

Hyslop spent the remainder of the day as he had 
already spent other days, in a visit to Folliott Park, and 
a close examination of the scene of the tragedy. But, 
as before, he found nothing that could throw light upon 
the mysterious murder. He wandered to the fountain 
at which Voe and his guilty wife had met, but there was 
nothing to show that the murdered man and his mur- 
derer had ever been upon the spot. 

He returned to the inn, grim and quiet, and spent the 
night. 

The next morning, after an early breakfast, he was 
again in Folliott Park, a new project in his mind. The 
keeper allowed him liberty to go whither he would, and 
assisted his researches. 

“ Has the lake been dragged ?” he asked, haltingupon 
the bank of the pretty ornamental sheet of water. “ The 
murderer might have thrown the knife in here. It 
would be more natural than to take it away with him.” 

The keeper replied that the lake had not been dragged. 

Hyslop was very thoughtful. If it had been Lilias 
Voe who had killed her husband, he said to himself, and 
if Lilias Voe were at Folliott Court, she would have rid 
herself, at all cost, of the tell-tale dagger with which 
she had destroyed her victim. No dagger had been 
found in the park, although every thicket had been 
searched thoroughly. The lake would seem to afford a 
a secure hiding-place for it to all eternity. If, then, it 
were Lilias Voe who had killed her husband, he summed 
up, and Lilias Voe were at Folliott Court in some dis- 
guise, she had without doubt disposed of her dagger by 
throwing it into this very lake. 


398 


Beatrix Rohan. 


There was a gay little boat-house with row-boats. 
Hyslop signified his desire to row on the lake, and a 
keeper got out one of the boats, seized the oars, and 
carried him out upon the pellucid waters. 

“ Do you keep your boat-house locked ?'* asked Hyslop, 
reflectively. 

The man replied in the affirmative. 

“ Was it locked upon the night of the murder ?” 

Another affirmative reply. 

“ Then,” thought Hyslop, “if my theory is right, and 
Lilias Voe was the murderess, and she flung the dagger 
into the lake, she must have stood upon the bank to 
throw it. It cannot be very far out in the water. I 
may find it. 

He imparted his idea to the keeper, who communi- 
cated it to the half-dozen men upon the banks, among 
whom was now Mr. Lambton. The land-steward made 
no objections to the proposed search but even joined in 
it. Two other row-boats, with the keepers and Mr. 
Lambton, shot out upon the waters, and engaged heart 
and soul in the investigation. 

The lake covered an area of several acres. Its banks 
were gently sloping. At ten feet from the shore the 
water was not ten feet deep. The bottom was artificial, 
of white pebbles, which gleamed through the clear 
translucent water with singular distinctness. The lake 
was shallow*, even at its center, and goldfish could be 
seen darting to and fro several feet below the surface. 

The three boats moved slowly over the lake, keeping 
a few feet from the shore. The searchers peered into 
the pure depths with diving glances. Foot by foot, 
almost inch by inch, they scanned the pebbly bottom, 
and the morning wore on and noon was passed, and still 
they kept up their search. 

“ It is useless,” said Lambton, finally. “ There’s no 
! 


1 he Dagger Identified. 


399 


dagger here, or, if there is it’s in the middle of the lake. 
It’s time to give over this foolish exploration, and I am 
going home to my luncheon.” 

The keepers took up their oars, when a strange and 
startling cry came from Hyslop. 

“ What’s that ?” he exclaimed, leaning over the boat, 
and pointing with his forefinger into the depths beneath 
him. “ I see something shining. It’s a knife !” 

The boats huddled together over the spot. 

One of the keepers sprang over the side of the boat 
and dived to the bottom. He came up dripping and 
blowing, and holding up in his hand a quaint, foreign- 
looking dagger, with a slender, pointed blade, a little 
upturned at the end, and with a hilt thickly encrusted 
with glittering gems. 

He gave this into the hands of Hyslop, who, with 
Lambton, examined it closely. 

“ Those are real gems,” said the land-steward. “ This 
dagger is a costly toy, and must have belonged to a 
wealthy person.” 

“ It is of India manufacture,” said Hyslop. “ It must 
have cost a pile of money. It’s one of those costly 
things that rich people buy to put in their cabinets as 
curiosities. Such handles are not made for use. And 
yet it’s a murderous-looking weapon. 

Lambton and the others coincided with this opinion. 

“ Lilias Voe could never have paid for such a weapon 
as that,” pursued Hyslop. “ But I’ll swear that it 
came from India. She came from India also. The 
coincidence is striking. She never had an admirer rich 
enough to give her such a present. There’s a dull 
stain along the blade — a blood stain that water won’t 
wash out. In my opinion, Mr. Lambton, this is the 
weapon that killed Caspar Voe.” 

“ The body must be taken up,” said the land-steward. 


400 


Beatrix Rohan. 


“ The doctor can tell if this dagger produced the fatal 
wounds/’ 

“ I wonder where this came from,” said Hyslop, 
thoughtfully. “ It may have belonged to Lady Folliott. 
The woman may have stolen it from Folliott Court.” 

“Perhaps Miss Bermyngham owned it, suggested 
Lambton. Her father was a virtuoso , a great lover of 
curiosities, and his cabinets contained rare treasures. 
Such a weapon was never flung in here from any but 
bad motives. If it had been simply lost here, there 
would have been search made for it. Mr. Hyslop, I 
regard this as a strong clue to the mystery of this 
murder.” 

“ Murder will out,” said o$e of the keepers, senten- 
tiously. “ There’s generally some little thing that 
betrays the murderer, sometimes a bit of paper used as 
the wadding of a gun, sometimes his own scary actions, 
sometimes a word or look. Now if the murderer had 
carried this dagger away — ” 

“ Its presence in his possession would have betrayed 
him, said Mr. Lambton. 

“ Will you allow me to retain this weapon in my 
possession for a few hours ?” inquired Hyslop, address- 
ing the land-steward. “ I desire to show it to the 
doctor, who must obtain an order for the disinterment 
of Voe’s body. And I wish also to show it to 
Lady Folliott, who may possibly be able to identify it.” 

Lambton assented. Hyslop insisted that it should be 
carefully examined by his companions, in order that 
they might identify it when called upon, and he then 
took possession of it 

He returned to the inn for his mid-day dinner, visited 
the doctor, exhibited his trophy, and called upon the 
medical practitioner to procure the requisite order for 
the exhumation of the murdered man. 


The Dagger Identified , ’ 


401 


At half-past one o’clock, the weapon still in his pos- 
session, he went to Folliott Court. It was two when he 
presented himself at the door of the servants’ hall and 
inquired for Mr. Lambton. 

There were some five-and-twenty servants employed 
at Folliott Court. Some score of these were gathered in 
orderly manner about a long dining-table, the house- 
maids, cooks, upper gardeners, and boatmen at the 
upper end, as became their superior dignity, and the 
grooms and scullions at the lower end, “ below the salt.” 
as befitted their inferior estate. 

The eyes of all these persons became fixed upon the 
intruder. Not at all embarrassed, Hyslop, passing by 
the men, scrutinized every woman in the company with 
a gaze that was actually piering. One by one, he 
reviewed them all, from the fat cook to the lowest scul- 
lion, and as he expected, not one of them by the wildest 
stretch of imagination could be supposed to be Lilias 
Voe in disguise. 

“ Of course, I knew I should not find her among 
these,” he thought. “ Lambton told me that all the ser- 
vants in the house, excepting Miss Bermyngham’s maid, 
had been in the family a long time. Lilias would never 
fancy being a servant. She was too idle and luxurious 
in her tastes.” 

The housekeeper made her appearance as he came to 
this decision, and he addressed himself to her, inquiring 
for Mr. Lambton, declaring that he had a letter which 
he must place in that gentleman's own hands. 

“Come to my room, then,” said the housekeeper, 
politely, having learned her part. u Wilson, Mr. Lamb- 
ton is upstairs in the morning- room. Inform him that 
a messenger is in my room, waiting to see him. Come 
this way, sir.” 

She conducted Hyslop to her room, a pleasant and 


402 


Beatrix Rohan. 


large apartment, furnished as a parlor, with doors open- 
ing from it into preserve-closets and other repositories 
for dainties under her especial charge. 

A tea-kettle was humming over a spirit-lamp, and 
three cups were on the table. 

“ You find me about to take a cup of tea, sir,” said the 
housekeeper. “ I have asked in the lady’s maids to 
share my tea with me, although we dine at three. Ah, 
here comes Lady Folliott’s maid now.” 

The door had been opened, and a woman had looked 
in. This woman, an elderly French person, now came 
forward, with a bow to the stranger, and sat down at 
the table. 

A single glance at her sufficed for Hyslop. This 
woman was just what she seemed. It scarcely needed 
his remembrance of Lambton’s assurance that she had 
been with Lady Folliott for seventeen years. 

Presently the door opened again and Finette came in. 

Hyslop’s heart beat more rapidly. For a moment his 
vision was indistinct, then he saw her plainly. He had 
expected to behold a small, slight figure with a dark 
skin, black hair, and black eyes — Lilias Voe, as he had 
known her. He beheld a tall, angular person with a 
sallow complexion, a thin face, high cheek bones, and 
small, furtive eyes ; a person not at all attractive in her 
appearance, yet none the less totally unlike the woman 
he sought. 

A sudden dejection came upon him. He was very 
moody and sullen in his looks when Mr. Lambton came 
in. The two went out into the hall together. 

“ Well ?” said the land-steward, interrogatively. 

“ I was mistaken,” said Hyslop. “ This Finette is not 
Lilias Voe.” 

Mr. Lambton actually looked surprised. He had 


The Dagger Identified. 


403 


aken more stock in Hyslop’s theories than he had 
thought. 

“ Then you give over your search ?” he asked. 
“ You've seen all the servants in the house excepting a 
footman, perhaps, who is on duty.” 

“ It seems as if I had been brought to a sudden stand- 
still,” acknowledged Hyslop. “ I believed the woman 
here. I find myself mistaken. She may have followed 
Voe from London. That it was she who committed the 
murder I still believe. No one else could have had any 
interest in Voe’s death. But you forget that my work 
is not yet finished here. There's the dagger ! Did you 
speak about it to Lady Folliott ?” 

“ No ; she is so anxious about her niece, who is still 
confined to her room. I have told her nothing — " 

“ Then I must speak to her.” 

Mr. Lambton made no objections. He knew the 
deep interest which Lady Folliott took in this case, and 
accordingly ushered Hyslop into the library and 
ordered the hall-porter to inform the baroness that he, 
Mr. Lambton, desired to see her. 

Lady Folliott entered their presence almost immedi- 
ately. 

Lambton presented Hyslop. 

“ Have any new discoveries been made ?” inquired 
her ladyship. “ Has any clue been found to the mys- 
tery of this murder ?" 

“ A most decided clue has been found, madam,” 
said Hyslop, respectfully. “We have discovered a 
dagger which has been recently thrown into the lake. 
It has not had time to rust, and there are stains upon it 
as of blood. We believe this to be the weapon with 
which the murder was committed.” 

Lady Folliott’s interest was increased to intensity. 

“ Has the dagger been identified ?” she asked. 


404 


Beatrix Rohan , 


“ No, madam,” said Hyslop. “ It is of a manufac- 
ture and costliness that would preclude the idea that it 
may have belonged to one of the villagers. It is my 
opinion that your niece, Miss Bermyngham, has been 
imposed upon by Lilias Voe, and that Lilias Voe is not 
dead. I believe that Miss Bermyngham may know 
that she lives and be secretly befriending her under a 
misapprehension of her real character. And I have 
also thought that the dagger may have been stolen 
from your house. It is of Indian manufacture, pro- 
fusely ornamented with real jewels, and is a great curi- 
osity.” 

“ I have lost nothing of the kind,” said Lady Folliott. 
“ Indeed, I never owned any such article — ” 

“ Then you cannot throw any light upon its owner- 
ship.” said Hyslop, his countenance falling. “ There 
would be no use in your looking at it, madam, I sup- 
pose. It is so remarkable in appearance that if you had 
once seen it you would remember it.” 

He withdrew it from within his coat, unfolded the 
paper he had wrapped about it, and displayed it on his 
extended palm. 

Lady Folliott bent forward, regarding it with a mor- 
bid curiosity, and then suddenly recoiled, exclaiming : 

“ I know that dagger ! How very singular ! Why, 
Mr. Lambton, that weapon belongs to my niece, Miss 
Bermyngham ! How could she have lost it ? Who 
could have stolen it from her ? I should have known it 
anywhere It belonged to her father, and it is very 
valuable. Come with me. My niece will identify it. 
She is not so ill but that she will gladly add her testi- 
mony to mine and claim her property. Come with me, 
both of you.” 



CHAPTER XLII. 

BESIEGED. 

Beatrix and the housekeeper stood like statues, 
scarcely breathing, while that loud, imperious knock 
resounded through Trevor farm-house. They waited 
until the knock was repeated, and then Beatrix signed 
to Esther to speak. 

“ Who is there ?” demanded the housekeeper, in a 
loud and firm voice. 

There was a brief pause. It had occurred to the 
Brands — father and son — lurking like wolves outside 
the heavy kitchen-door, to endeavor to pass themselves 
off for the absent servants, but clearly that would not 
answer. 

The women in the house were fully upon their guard 
Esther’s discovery of the dog’s death had made an 
apparently straightforward course imperative. 

“ Open, in the name of the law,” said Colonel Brand, 
in a harsh and commanding voice. “ Open, in the Queen’s 
name.” 

“ And what for ?” called Esther, undismayed. 

“I have here a warrant for the arrest of Beatrix 
Rohan, niece of Colonel Brand, a young lady of unsound 
mind, who has escaped and fled from her natural and 
legal guardians,” said Colonel Brand, as if reading 

[ 405 ] 


Beatrix Rohan . 


from a legal document. “ I demand the surrender of 
the said Beatrix Rohan in the name of her Majesty 
the queen.” 

Beatrix clasped her hands and looked at Esther in 
silent entreaty. The housekeeper stood firm, but she 
certainly looked troubled and perplexed. 

“ Is Mr. Trevor at home?” questioned Colonel Brand. 

“ No ; you know he is not,” cried Esther, with 
energy. “ You know, as well as we, that we are two 
women alone in the house, that the master and mistress 
are gone, that the servants are absent at Bala. You 
know, too, that you have killed our dogs — ” 

“ Woman !” interrupted Colonel Brand, in a shocked 
voice. “ Do you dare attribute such an act to us ? We 
have but just drove up. We did think we saw two men 
near your stable, but came on directly to the house 
without accosting them. I am a gentleman. Beware 
what charges you make in speaking of me, or I may 
force you to the task of proving them in a court of l?w. 
Is Miss Rohan in there with you ?” 

“ You know she is !” 

“ Beatrix,” said Colonel Brand, in a coaxing voice, “ I 
promise you complete forgiveness and immunity from 
any consequences of your wilfulness, if you will open 
the door to us. Beatrix, my beloved niece, for your 
own sake, I implore you to yield yourself to the dear 
friends who love you still — to the guardian whom your 
father appointed to watch over you !” 

Beatrix’s lips curled in haughty scorn. 

Turning to Esther, she whispered : 

“You will not give me up, will you? In heaven’s 
name, Esther, stand by me !” 

“ I will !” said the woman, grimly. “ Have no fears. 
The master’s guest shall not be taken out of this house 
by men who would poison hounds,” 


Besieged, 


407 


Beatrix thanked her with a look. 

“ Still willful, Beatrix ?” exclaimed Colonel Brand. 
“ Woman ! You housekeeper, are you going to open 
the door to us ?” 

“ No, sir, I am not.” 

“ Do you know what the consequences of this refusal 
will be? Your servants will not return from Bala 
to-night. Jones has been stopped on the way, and will 
not return either. You are helpless, with only this 
door between you and us. How long will it take us to 
break the door in ?” 

“ A good long while, you’ll find,” returned Esther. 
“ That door is solid oak, three inches thick. And it’s 
barred across on the inside. It will stand a long 
assault.” 

“ You were left in charge of your master’s property. 
What will your master say when he learns of the 
damage of his house, resulting from your contumacious 
resistance to a legal warrant — ” 

“ He won’t think of me,” said Esther, “ nor of the 
house either ; he’ll be so mad about his hounds ! You 
may be sure he’ll get his pay for the dogs — and out of 
you too, sir.” 

“ You refuse to obey her majesty’s warrant ?” 

“ I do !” 

“ Very well, then !” said Colonel Brand. “ Whatever 
happens, you have brought it on yourself !” 

There was a brief parley outside, the sound of hurry- 
ing steps, and then a heavy log of wood, which had 
been procured from a pile near the kitchen, was hurled 
violently against the door. A vigorous assault fol- 
lowed, the log forming a battering-ram of formidable 
character. 

“ Their entrance is merely a matter of time, Esther. 
I cannot consent to become a source of expense and 


408 


Beatrix Rohan . 


annoyance to Mr. Trevor. I cannot give myself up to 
these men. Is there not some way in which I can 
escape ? Can I not get out at some other door or win- 
dow — ” 

“ They are likely to have assistants who are guarding 
the house. No, Miss ; the door is stronger than you 
think. We shall keep them at bay a good long time, 
and there’s the chance of the farm-servants coming 
home. The night is dark ; you could hardly see your 
hand before your face. You would surely get lost upon 
the mountain. Pray be guided by me, Miss, and 
remain where you are !” 

Beatrix was guided by the old housekeeper and gave 
up her half-formed project of rushing out into the 
night. 

“ Oh, if only one of the men "were here !” groaned 
Esther, as the heavy blows rained upon the door. 

“ Or if we but had the dogs ! There are no fire-arms 
in the house, except the fowling-piece of the master, 
and that is out of order. We cannot fight — ” 

“ Could we not pile some further barrier against the 
door ? There’s your heavy dresser. Do you think we 
could move that ?” 

“We can attempt it. We shall be trying to do some- 
thing, at any rate.” 

They worked hard, and succeeded in barricading the 
entrance with the ponderous oaken dresser. The noise 
they unavoidably made reached the ears of the assail- 
ants in some pause of their nefarious work. They evi- 
dently comprehended what the beleaguered women 
were doing, and stopped to consult. 

“ What will they do now ?” queried Esther. 

The two women heard their besiegers try the massive 
window shutters softly, then the other doors. 


Besieged. 


409 


“ The front door is heavier than this,” said the house- 
keeper. “ I wish they’d try that.” 

But the assailants preferred to return to the kitchen- 
entrance, believing that their stout blows had made 
some impression upon its hinges. They renewed the 
assault with such vigor that presently the two women 
heard the door creak and groan, as if steadily weaken- 
ing. 

“ We cannot hold out much longer,” said Beatrix. 
“ Oh, if the servants would only come !” 

“ These men will be in here within fifteen minutes,” 
said Esther. “We might retreat from room to room as 
they advance, but these inner doors would be no defence. 
I tell you, Miss, what you must do. As the door begins 
to fall in, you can escape by one of the parlor windows, 
and hide in the shrubbery till morning. The night is 
warm, and the darkness will protect you.” 

Beatrix nodded in silence. 

The blows of the log upon the door became deafen- 
ing. The women huddled together, still as death. But 
the old door did not yield. The fifteen minutes allotted 
by Esther, passed, and still they seemed no nearer cap- 
ture. 

“ We shall hold out, after all,” said the housekeeper. 
“ We shall surely — ” 

There was a terrific crash. The clamps in which the 
wooden bar rested were torn violently from one side of 
the door. The hinges gave way, and the door fell in at 
one side, banging heavily against the dresser. 

An exultant cry came from the besiegers. 

They applied their battering-ram to the dresser. 

“Now!” said Esther. 

The two slipped into the dining-room, locking the 
door behind them. As they fled to the parlor, they 
heard the dresser go toppling and crashing to the floor. 


4 IQ 


Beatrix Rohan . 


Esther unfastened one of the parlor windows. Just 
then they heard the dining-room door give way, and the 
tramp of approaching feet. 

Beatrix, without a word, sprang out into the darkness. 

At the same moment the parlor door was burst in, 
and Colonel Brand and his son came flying in. 

A cry of rage escaped them at sight of the open 
window. 

Randall Brand bounded across the room, swept Esther 
aside as if she had been a child, and leaped out in pur- 
suit of Beatrix. 

It needed not words to tell him that she had again 
escaped him. An awful fury filled his being. A 
murderous hatred of her possessed him. He flew on- 
ward into the shrubbery, like an incarnate tornado. It 
was pitchy dark — he could see nothing ; but he became 
conscious that some one was flying before him. 

He shot forward like a bullet from a gun. His star 
was in the ascendant that night. For suddenly he 
heard the fugitive stumble and fall. In another instant, 
guided by the sound, he had hurled himself upon her 
prostrate figure, and had staggered to his feet with her 
in his arms. 

His wild yell brought his father from the house with 
a lighted lamp. 

“ I’ve got her !” shouted Randall Brand, nearly beside 
himself with joy. “ Your light here, on her face. Is it 
Beatrix ?” 

Colonel Brand came nearer, and let the light fall full 
upon the face of the struggling girl. It was Beatrix, 
sure enough. They had her safe at last. 

“ Quick ! to the carriage !” said Randall Brand, his 
face glowing luridly in the lamplight. “ We must lose 
no time here. We’ve done prison work to-night. We 
must be out of England by morning.” 


Besieged. 


4i 1 


Colonel Brand, carrying the lighted lamp, ran on in 
advance, crossing lawn and garden, to the green lane, in 
which a close carriage drawn by two horses waited. 
Beatrix was thrust into the vehicle. 

“ Quick, father, get her hat and cloak/’ said Randall 
Brand, hurriedly, “ She will need them, and there’ll be 
no stop for us till we reach the sea.” 

Cofonel Brand sped into the house. He found 
Beatrix’s wraps on the hall-rack, siezed them, and 
returned with all speed, pursued by Esther, who had 
armed herself with a kitchen-poker, and was wild 
enough to give both him and his son battle. 

Meanwhile, Beatrix had made a frantic effort at 
escape, but Randall Brand had thrust her back into the 
dark vehicle, saying in a tone that made her flesh 
creep: 

“ Come, Beatrix, we’ve had enough of trouble from 
you. Don’t tempt us to kill you outright. I swear to 
you that I would destroy you at a little provocation. 
Remember if )’ou die we inherit your fortune, all the 
same as if you were my wife ! Be warned !” 

Beatrix sank back in a farther corner. Colonel Brand 
followed her into the carriage and shut the door. 
Randall Brand mounted the box, whipped up his 
horses, and drove rapidly toward the highway. The 
night had come for Beatrix at last ! Her enemies had 
triumphed ! 



CHAPTER XLIII. 

SAFE. 

The Brands had procured their close carriage at 
Bala, Randall Brand being his own driver out and from 
Trevor Farm. The two men did not care to take into 
their confidence a stranger, especially ae they foresaw 
that, in their attempts to gain possession of the person 
of the fugitive heiress, they would probably resort to 
certain acts — such as the poisoning of the hounds — 
which a coachman might not sanction. In short, their 
policy of secresy and caution was carried out in this 
matter as in all others. 

But, upon their return to Bala, they purposed putting 
in fresh horses and taking up a driver who knew the 
roads thoroughly, and push through at the highest rate 
of speed for a certain point upon the sea-coast, at which 
point they had telegraphed Mrs. Brand to meet them. 

Their evil plans had been well and carefully laid 
Before the farm-servants should return to Trevor Farm 
upon the following morning, the Brands expected to be 
beyond pursuit with their prisoner safely in their 
charge. 

“ But man proposes, God disposes.” 

Upon so small a thing as the choosing of a road, the 
turning to the right or to the left, was to depend the 
success or defeat of the conspirators. 


[412] 


Safe . 


4i3 


As we have said, there were two roads to Bala — a 
direct road, rough and little used, traversing rickety 
bridges, one of which had been completely carried away 
by a recent freshet, and the other the usual rugged 
highway upon which Jones the farm-laborer had come 
to grief. 

Arrived at the fork of these two roads, Randall Brand 
halted to deliberate. The direct road would be three 
miles shorter, as he had been told at Bala, and time 
was everything to him. 

“ The road must be in its usual order, or the inn- 
keeper would have told me,” he thought. “ But he said 
that it was little traveled, being difficult for horses 
drawing heavy loads. I shall meet no one upon this 
direct road, and upon the other I might meet some one. 
Yes, I’ll take the direct road.” 

It was dark, but he could trace through the gloom 
the openings of the two roads. He turned to the right, 
and hurried onward without a shadow of hesitation. 

Now it happened that Sir Lionel Charlton had arrived 
about nightfall of that very evening at Bala, just twen- 
ty-four hours later than the arrival of the Brands. 

He had proceeded to an inn, procured supper, and 
set about engaging a horse and vehicle to convey him 
at once to Trevor Farm. Untimely as the hour of his 
visit might prove, he was full of uneasiness and anxiety 
about his young betrothed and was determined to see 
her that night. 

“ It will be difficult to procure a horse at this hour, 
sir,” said the innkeeper, to whom he had addressed him- 
self. “ You want it, I suppose, after the concerts ? 
The Eistedfodd is a great success, sir, this year. We 
have a great many strangers here, some even from 
London.” 

“ Indeed,” said Sir Lionel. “ That must be quite a com- 


4 H 


Beatrix Rohan . 


pliment to your musicians. Are these strangers musi- 
cians also, or merely music-lovers ?” 

“ Well, I can’t rightly say, sir. They don’t seem to 
show much interest in the concerts, I must confess. 
They are gone out in a close carriage now, sir. They 
are strangers here, and asked me a great many ques- 
tions last night about the roads and the way to Trevor 
Farm — ” 

The young baronet started. A conviction of the 
identity of these two strangers who did not show inter- 
est in the concerts flashed upon his mind, and he said 
quickly : 

“ I must have the horse immediately. Procure one 
at any cost, with a spring vehicle of some description. 
I must set out for Trevor Farm at once.” 

Expense not being considered, the innkeeper suc- 
ceeded in procuring a horse and spring-cart, with a 
driver who knew the roads, and in ten minutes there- 
after Sir Lionel Charlton was on his way to Trevor 
Farm. 

“ Shall we take the direct road, sir ?” asked the driver, 
as they quitted the town. “ It’s three miles shorter — ” 

“ The direct road, of course. Drive as rapidly as pos- 
sible, my good fellow. How dark the night is ! It will 
be a guinea in your pocket if we get there safely and in 
time.” 

The driver pushed onward with increased speed. 

Sir Lionel had heard that the household at Trevor 
Farm was large, and that several servants were 
employed there. He had no fears that any violence 
would be perpetrated in taking Beatrix prisoner, but he 
knew that Colonel Brand was the girl’s legal guardian, 
and that he had a warrant for Beatrix’s arrest as a run- 
away ward, and a person of unsound mind “ unfit to be 
at large.” He thought it more than probable, there- 


Safe . 


4i5 


fore, that Mr. Trevor might deliver up the girl into her 
enemy’s hands, in the belief that he was thereby obey- 
ing the law and doing right. 

“ My poor Beatrix !” thought the lover. “ My poor 
darling ! Perhaps at this moment the Brands are at 
Trevor Farm. Perhaps she has again escaped them. 
Oh, God defend and protect her !” 

The direct road to Trevor Farm comprised a distance 
of some nine miles. About four of these were accom- 
plished, when the horse suddenly went dead lame. 

The driver alighted, and with his lantern examined 
the horse’s foot. 

“ It’s no use, sir,” he said, “ we can’t go on except at 
a snail's pace. We’ll have to turn back and procure 
another horse.” 

“ Is there no farm-house near ?” 

“None nearer than Trevor Farm, sir.” 

Sir Lionel repressed a groan. He could not go on 
with a lame horse. In case of an encounter with the 
Brands, and a rescue of Beatrix from their hands, he 
would need a strong, sound animal. 

“ Is it a straight road to Trevor Farm ?” he asked. 

“ Yes, sir, as straight as may be, sir.” 

“ Then I’ll get out and walk,” said the young baronet. 
“ Do you go back and obtain another horse, and follow 
me as fast as you can. Give me the lantern. You can 
get another.” 

Seizing the lantern, Sir Lionel descended to the ground 
and walked swiftly up the road. 

The driver turned about and set out upon his way 
back to Bala. 

About a mile farther on, the young baronet came to 
the swollen creek, which with its rushing, rapid current 
and wide extent, looked like a river. 

And now he discovered that the bridge was gone. 


416 


Beatrix Rohan . 


“ There must be a ford below, or another bridge," he 
said to himself, controlling his impatience. “ I cannot 
swim across here with this current ; I must seek the 
ford." 

Some three miles farther down the creek, the course 
of which he followed, he discovered a shaky little bridge 
which he crossed. He then walked up the river bank 
to the point from which the bridge had been torn away, 
finding himself again in the direct road to Trevor Farm. 

He had made a detour of six miles over a rugged, 
stony road and found himself back again only a few 
rods from where he had started, the swollen creek occu- 
pying those few rods. 

“ It has taken me a long time to do this distance," he 
said to himself, halting. “ I must have walked seven 
miles. It must be nearly time for my driver to return. 
I wonder if he will see that this bridge is gone. I had 
better leave the lantern as a danger-signal." 

He found a tree overhanging the bank, and climbed 
up its low branches, hanging his lantern* upon a limb 
that extended toward the opposite bank. 

As he returned to the ground, he heard a sound of 
wheels rapidly approaching. 

His first thought was of his own wagon, but a 
moment’s listening showed him that the approaching 
vehicle was upon the same side of the creek with him- 
self. 

“ It is coming from the direction of Trevor Farm," he 
thought, with a start. “ It may be the Brands." 

He stood still and waited. 

The carriage came near, not abating its speed. Evi- 
dently its driver was not aware that the bridge was 
gone. 

“ Halt !" cried Sir Lionel, waving his arms in the 
darkness. “ The bridge has been carried away I" 


Safe . 


417 


The carriage stopped abruptly. Randall Brand — for 
this was the equipage of the Brands — took up a lighted 
lantern from beneath his box and waved it aloft. 

A single glance assured him that the bridge was 
indeed gone. He flashed the rays of his lantern upon 
our hero. Sir Lionel’s hat shaded his face, which the 
Brands would not have known in any case. Sir 
Lionel’s gray tweed suit was sufficiently commonplace 
not to attract attention. 

“ So the bridge is gone !” said Randall Brand, mut- 
tering oaths frightful to hear. “ Is there any other 
bridge, or a ford, near here ?” 

“ Three miles below, sir,” said Sir Lionel, promptly. 

Randall Brand uttered new curses of terrible import. 

The carriage-door opened and Colonel Brand put out 
his head. 

“What’s up ?” he asked. 

“ The infernal bridge is gone,” said the son. “ The 
ford is three miles below. This person here has saved 
our lives. I say, you fellow, do you know the road ?” 

“ Yes, Sir,” said Sir Lionel, loudly. 

A shriek came from within the carriage. Beatrix 
had been silent as death from the moment of her cap- 
ture until now. 

Colonel Brand slammed the door hastily shut, and no 
further sound came from Beatrix. 

Sir Lionel’s blood boiled. He comprehended the 
truth, that his young betrothed was within the carriage, 
and that her relatives were bearing her away. He felt 
an instinctive impulse to attack both the Brands, but 
prudence restrained him. While he was rapidly turn- 
ing over in his mind a plan of procedure, Randall 
Brand again addressed him roughly : 

“ See here, you fellow, you know the road ; suppose 
you climb up here and guide me as for as the road 


Beatrix Rohan . 


418 


opposite this point. I’ll give you half-a-sovereign for 
your trouble.” 

“All right, sir,” said the young baronet. 

He climbed up to the box, seized the reins, turned 
the horses’ heads down the stream, and drove at a good 
pace. 

Randall Brand made haste to conceal his lantern 
under the box, being unwilling to expose his face to the 
gaze of even a casual countryman. 

“ I suppose you are on your way home on foot from 
the Eistedfodd,” remarked Randall Brand, as they sped 
onwards. “ A half-guinea will pay you for your extra 
six miles walk. Drive faster.” 

“ I thought I heard a woman scream inside,” observed 
Sir Lionel, roughening his voice and speaking with 
assumed carelessness. 

“ Probably. I have a lunatic with her keeper inside. 
She is my sister,” said Randall Brand, unblushingly. 
“ Just whip that nigh horse. He seems to lag.” 

Sir Lionel’s brains were busy. How was he to 
rescue Beatrix from her enemies ? He might go with 
them to Bala and there denounce them, but the law was 
on their side. Before he could do anything they 
would escape with their prisoner. They were both 
powerful men, both probably armed to the teeth. 
Stratagem would avail far better than force. 

They arrived at the shaky bridge, which was barely 
wide enough for a wagon to cross. It had no parapet. 
The water rmder it roared and rushed like a fierce tor- 
rent. 

“ The water looks very deep,” said Randall Brand, 
leaning over and endeavoring to peer down into the 
noisy flood. 

As quick as thought, Sir Lionel placed both his hands 
upon his companion, and with a quick and powerful 


Safe . 


419 


thrust sent him headlong from the box into the 
creek. 

The wild yell of Randall Brand was lost in the noise 
of the wheels, as Sir Lionel whipped the horses and 
sped onwards. 

The carriage windows were closely shut. The occu- 
pants within had no suspicion of what was occurring 
outside. 

For the next mile, the young baronet ran the horses 
at a terrible pace. The carriage rolled from side to side, 
like a ship at sea. Colonel Brand, in a deadly fright, 
let down one of the windows, and shouted to him to stop. 
But not until a full mile had been passed, and the 
horses began to pant and to slacken their speed instinc- 
tively, did the baronet loosen his hold upon the reins or 
put up his whip. 

“ Can't you stop them ?” yelled Colonel Brand. “We 
shall all be killed. What is the matter ? What made 
them run away ?” 

Sir Lionel brought the horses down to a halt. 

“ Could you step outside a moment ?” he asked, in a 
shrill whisper. 

“ Why, yes. What do you want, Randall ? Is the 
harness broken ?” 

Colonel Brand alighted, carefully closing the carriage 
door behind him, and approached the horses’ heads. 

“ It's not Randall,” said Sir Lionel, coolly. “ It’s the 
new driver. Randall toppled over into the river back 
there, just before the horses began to run.” 

“ Randall ! In the river ! Merciful Heaven ! We 
must turn about then. Quick, do you hear ? Turn. 
Who are you ?” 

“ Sir Lionel Charlton, at your service ?” said our hero, 
with a laugh. “ Stand aside, old man !” 

He struck the horses a stinging blow apiece, and 


420 


Beatrix Rohan. 


they flew away like mad creatures. A bullet whistled 
past our hero — another — and another ; but in an instant 
more he was beyond the reach of these unpleasant 
missiles, flying onward as fast as his horses could carry 
him. He plied the whip liberally during the next 
mile, but the hard roads and the furious pace soon 
exhausted the animals. After another mile or so, the 
whip had no effect upon them, and they came to a 
walk. 

Then Sir Lionel stopped them, descended from the 
box, and opened the carriage door. 

“ Beatrix !” he called softly. “ Beatrix, darling !” 

Beatrix was crouched in the farther corner. At the 
sound of his voice she sprang forward and fell into his 
arms. 

There was but brief time for embrace or explana- 
tions. 

“ Come, darling,” he said. “ The horses have given 
out. We must walk.” 

He helped her to the ground, and they set out on 
foot in the direction of Bala. 

“ I recognized your voice when you spoke to Randall 
Brand, Lionel,” said Beatrix, clinging to his arm. “ I 
shrieked that you might know that I was there. Oh, 
thank God that you came in time ! But is not that the 
sound of wheels ? What can it mean ? Some new 
danger — ” 

“ I think my own cart is returning. Wait. It is 
close upon us.” 

He called out loudly. The cart was close upon them 
— Sir Lionel's own returning vehicle, with a strong 
and fresh horse. The lovers entered the cart, and went 
bowling over the road towards Bala. 

“Do you suppose that Randall Brand drowned, 
Lionel ?” asked Beatrix, in a whisper. 


Safe. 


421 


“ By no means. He will get the good ducking he 
deserves, but will swim ashore — of course, he knows 
how to swim ?’* 

“ Yes, but he is an indifferent swimmer. Lionel, I 
fear that this affair may get you into trouble. Colonel 
Brand is legally my guardian, you know, and they have 
got out some kind of warrant for my arrest. They 
will surely recapture me in the morning, and — ” 

“ In the morning, Beatrix, they will no longer have 
power over you. To-night you are Colonel Brand’s 
ward. In the morning — by daylight, I mean, for it is 
morning now — you will be my wife ! Lady Folliott 
has given her consent to our marriage. I have a spec- 
ial license in my pocket. The clergyman at Bala has 
been notified, and will be up and waiting for us. 
After I heard from the innkeeper at Bala that two men 
whom I believed to be the Brands, were gone to Trevor 
Farm, I sent a note to the clergyman, informing him that 
we should probably be at his house about midnight. 
We shall find him up, although it must be nearly three 
in the morning now. The special license I procured 
at Doctor’s Commons in London, and have had in my 
possession two or three days.” 

“ But will not Colonel Brand arrest you for abduct- 
ing a minor ?” inquired Beatrix, anxiously. 

“ I’ll take the risk of that. I don’t believe that he 
will care to go into a court of law in face of what you 
and your friends can testify !” 

Sir Lionel’s coolness reassured Beatrix. 

They drove direct to the clergyman’s house, and 
found the rector up and waiting for them. The 
rector's family, amazed at the novelty of a wedding at 
that untimely hour, presented themselves in dishabille, 
and grouped around, ready to serve as witnesses. 

In face of the special license and the statement Sir 


422 


Beatrix Rohan. 


Lionel Charlton made of the cause of the untimely 
marriage, the clergyman could make no objections to 
performing the ceremony. 

Half-an-hour later, Sir Lionel Charlton and Beatrix 
Rohan were husband and wife. 

Sir Lionel pressed upon the worthy rector a bank- 
note which comprehended one-fourth of the young 
baronet’s yearly income, and the newly-married pair 
proceeded to the inn. 

“ We will be married again during canonical hours in 
church, and with due ceremony, if you wish, Beatrix,” 
said Sir Lionel, tenderly. “ This hasty ceremony gives 
me the right to protect you. We shall have no more 
trouble with the Brands.” 

The dawn was breaking. A train would leave for 
Chester a couple of hours later. Sir Lionel ordered 
breakfast to be served in his own private parlor. The 
time of waiting was spent in explanations and in lovers’ 
converse. 

“We shall get away before the Brands return,” said 
Sir Lionel, as the cab drove up to convey them to the 
station. “We shall go direct to Folliott Court, my dar- 
ling. I have written a note to be delivered to Colonel 
Brand when he arrives.” 

The happy pair embarked for Chester without seeing 
anything of Beatrix’s enemies, and as they took their 
seats together in a first-class compartment without other 
occupants, and the train rolled out of the station, Sir 
Lionel drew the tawny head of his young bride to his 
breast and whispered : 

“ You are safe now, Beatrix — safe forever, my own 
wife !” 

Half-an-hour after the departure of the new-married 
pair, Colonel Brand and his son, both bedraggled and 
forlorn, with haggard faces and furious eyes, drove up 


Safe . 


423 


to the inn, with a broken carriage and a pair of half-dead 
horses. 

The innkeeper hastened to deliver to the Colonel the 
note which Sir Lionel had left for him. It contained 
only these words : 

“ Colonel Brand : Beatrix is now my wife. Proofs 
will be given you at the rectory. I am quite well aware 
that you would gladly prosecute me upon a charge of 
abducting a minor from her lawful guardian. Do so, if 
you wish, but you will find that in so doing you will but 
make your own ruin the more complete. You know 
whether your conscience is clear, whether you are able 
to stand up in a court of law and court investigation. 
Should you desire war, Lady Charlton and I may be 
found at Folliott Court. Should you desire peace, leave 
England !” 

We need not attempt to depict the rage and conster- 
nation of the two conspirators. 

They were in no condition for war. Their lawless 
attack upon poor Jones, their poisoning the hounds at 
Trevor Farm, and, more than all the rest, the fact that 
they were in the wrong and that any judge would decide 
against them in a suit-at-law, and that they were liable 
to prosecution for their treatment of Beatrix, decided 
them to accept the situation and beat a retreat. 

Accordingly, they proceeded to the rendezvous at 
which Mrs. Brand awaited them, and the three made 
haste to leave England for the Continent. 



CHAPTER XLIV. 

THE NIGHT AND THE MORNING. 

The false Miss Bermyngham was alone in her bou- 
doir. Lady Folliott had gone down to the library, 
meeting there Mr. Lambton and Hyslop, as recorded. 
The impostor was troubled and gloomy. A premon- 
ition of coming doom darkened her guilty soul. She 
knew that the baroness had gone down to consult her 
land-steward upon the affair of the recent murder. 
She knew that Hyslop must have reviewed the house- 
hold servants by this time, that he must have seen that 
Finette was not her whom he sought, and she ventured 
to hope and believe that Hyslop would now retire from 
the field discomfited, and return to Lancashire and his 
own people. 

“ Can Hyslop be below now with Lady Folliott and 
Lambton ?” she asked herself. “ Is he here to say that 
his suspicions were all folly, and that he relinquished 
further effort in the matter ? The lake here has not 
been dragged. No clue will ever be found to the mys- 
tery. There is only one point to guard against. Hys- 
lop must not see me. He always hated me. He has seen 
me made up for the stage many a time. I fancy that 
he would know me under all this paint and powder and 
hair-dye. I shall keep to my room until I hear that he 
has left Lincolnshire. And then I shall go to London 

[424] 


The Night and the Morning. 


425 


for a change, or to Brighton. This thing has been a 
serious shock to me.” 

She paced her floor, her slight figure trembling with 
a chill. That dread presentiment absorbed all her 
senses. Night seemed shutting down upon her soul. 
She tried to reassure herself— to laugh at her terrors— 
but she could not shake off this deadly oppression 
weighing more heavily upon her with every instant. 

“ If anything should happen,” she mused, “ I sup- 
pose I should be hanged. Caspar told me so. But they 
should never hang me, never ! I ought to be prepared 
— no one knows what might happen — ” 

She took out her keys and going into her dressing- 
room, unlocked her trunk and the toilet-chest within it. 
From the latter receptacle she brought out a tiny vial 
in which was a single white and transparent globule. 
She put this vial in her pocket. 

Then, re-locking her trunk, she sent a long and com- 
prehensive glance about her dressing-room. Her 
dressing-case was open, its ivory and gold fittings all 
displayed. Her jewel-boxes were open also, and the 
glimmer of jewels caught her gaze. A pink silk dinner- 
dress trimmed with point-lace lay on a chair. Scent 
cases, with gold -stoppered bottles, littered the dressing- 
table. An india shawl was thrown carelessly upon a 
sofa. With all her cowardly soul, this guilty woman 
loved these things, and she muttered now with a 
strange smile : 

“ Come what may, I have lived like a princess. I 
have been petted and flattered and fawned upon ; I 
have dressed in silks and jewels ; had a maid to wait 
upon me, and have lavished money to my heart’s con- 
tent. If I had been born to all this, I should have been 
as good as other women. It’s not all my fault. If 
Caspar had been sober and industrious, I might perhaps 


426 


Beatrix Rohan. 


have been a good wife. What a strange life mine lias 
been !” 

She sighed, and returned to her boudoir. 

“ Worst came to worst,” she said, walking her floor 
up and down wearily, “ I can escape them all,” and she 
put her hand to her pocket. “ But why do I talk this 
way ? I think I never had the blues before. I never 
felt like this after my baby died, and the night after 
Caspar died I slept like a child. I am foolish. Every- 
thing is right. What could happen ?” 

She flung herself upon a pale blue silken couch, and 
half closed her eyes. Steps were heard in the hall. 
Lady Folliott came in gently, yet with traces of excite- 
ment on her face. 

Her ladyship had brought Hyslop and Lambton to 
the door of the boudoir, and had bidden them wait 
there a moment while she prepared Miss Bermyngham 
to see them. The door was not quite closed. The two 
men without could hear, but could not see what trans- 
spired within. 

“ Nerea, darling,” said Lady Folliott, approaching 
the sofa, “ do you feel better now, dear ? Is the pain 
in your heart relieved ?” 

The impostor raised her eyelids a trifle. 

“Yes, I feel better, Aunt Folliott,” she said, in a low 
voice. “ But I am ill yet. Is there any news ?” 

“ Do you feel able to hear anything more about the 
murder, Nerea, dearest ?” 

“ Is there anything more to hear ?” demanded the 
impostor. “ Is the thing not ended yet ? Of course, I 
want to hear it all, but all this wears upon me. Has 
that Hyslop been here yet ?” 

“ Yes, dear — ” 

“ Did he recognize Finette ? Has he found anybody 
that he thinks to be this Lilias Voe ?” 


The Night and the Morning. 


427 


“ No, dear — ” 

“ Of course not !” scoffed the false Miss Bermyng- 
ham. “Agatha Walden is dead — dead and buried. 
Tell this fellow to seek out the record of her death. 
Aunt Folliott, I am surprised that you should have 
allowed him to enter your house. But perhaps it is as 
well. He is satisfied now and is gone away, has he 
not r 

“ Not yet, my dear. He is satisfied that the murder- 
ess is not in this house, but, my dear, be calm, he has 
made a most startling discovery — ” 

The impostor raised herself upon her elbow. 

“ A discovery !” she echoed, in a hollow whisper. 

“ Yes, dear. They found to-day in the lake a dagger. 
It had been newly flung there, and is not yet rusted. 
The body of Voe is to be exhumed, and the wounds 
compared with the dagger.” 

Despite her paint and enamel, the impostor’s face 
became ghastly. Lady Folliott, not. noticing the change 
in it, continued : 

“ Hyslop has charge of the dagger. It is so costly 
that it could not have belonged to one of the villagers, 
he thought, and he brought it to me to see if I had ever 
owned it. I recognized it in an instant. My dear, it is 
the very dagger with the jewelled hilt which you once 
showed me as having belonged to your father. I iden- 
tified it as yours — ” 

The impostor shut her lips tight together to repress 
the shriek that arose to them. 

“Mr. Hyslop begged to be allowed to see you,” said 
Lady Folliott, in conclusion. “ You must identify your 
property, Nerea, darling. How could it have been 
stolen from you ? Did you lose it ?” 

“ That maid of mine must have stolen it,” muttered 
the impostor, sullenly and huskily. 


428 


Beatrix Rohan . 


“ But, Nerea, she died before I saw you, and you 
showed me the dagger, dear, here at Folliott Court. 
Perhaps you had not even missed it ? How could any 
one have stolen it ? Who was the thief ? You will have 
no objections, my darling, to tell Mr. Hyslop that this 
dagger was your own property — ” 

The guilty creature leaped to her feet. 

“ I won’t tell him !” she cried, in a high, shrill voice, 
whose tones fairly appalled Gordon Hyslop, as they 
struck familiarly upon his memory. “ I won’t see 
him. I won’t be questioned. I won’t be dragged into 
this awful murder case. Send him away. Tell him I am 
ill. Make him leave Folliott Fens. I won’t see any one — ” 

“ Hush, Nerea, you will make yourself worse. He 
shall go !” cried the frightened baroness. “ I will send 
him away directly.” 

The door swung open, and Gordon Hyslop walked 
into the room. 

His face, white and stern, struck horror to the guilty 
woman’s soul. Her hand flew to her pocket. Her 
black eyes, wide open, stared at Hyslop in despair. 

“ I thought I was right !” said Hyslop, quietly. 
“ Lilias Voe lives, Lady Folliott. Who is this woman ?” 

“ My niece, Miss Bermyngham. Mr. Lambton, I call 
upon you to remove this person who insults my niece — ” 

“Your niece?” and Hyslop laughed. “I have seen 
this pretty blonde before. Wash the paint from her 
face and the dye from her hair, and you’ll find a swarthy 
skin and black locks. She has a black heart, too, under 
that white gown. If I hadn’t heard her voice, I should 
never have looked for Lilias Voe under that blonde 
mask !” 

The guilty woman stood terror-stricken, her eyes not 
swerving from his face. 

Again Lady Folliott appealed to Lambton to thrust 


The Night and the Morning. 429 


Hyslop from her presence, but Lambton stood as if 
stupefied. 

“ You are found out, Lilias Voe !” said Hyslop, with 
a touch of triumph. “ You murdered your baby. You 
murdered your husband. Without doubt you murdered 
the real Miss Bermyngham. I expected to find the 
murderess in Finette, and I brought an officer to arrest 
her. He is below in the shrubbery. I will call him 
now,” and he moved toward the window. “ Ah, you 
may brave it out a little longer, but the paint shall be 
washed from your face and washes shall restore your 
hair to its natural color, and before your trial you 
shall be as you were months ago in looks. Murder- 
ess ! Do you know that the scaffold awaits you ?” 

He called loudly from the window. 

At the same moment, the false Miss Bermyngham, 
the real Lilias Voe, drew her hand from her pocket and 
put it to her mouth. See crunched the transparent 
globule between her small teeth, an odd smile on her 
rose-red lips. 

“ Lady Folliott,” she said, turning to the affrighted 
and bewildered baroness, “ it’s all true. I am Lilias 
Voe, the murderess ! But I never harmed your niece. 
She died of heart-disease. It is she who was buried as 
Agatha Walden. I killed Caspar Voe. He meant to 
give me up to the law. I have been a bad woman, but 
I swear I never harmed Miss Bermyngham. I — I 
Hyslop I have cheated you after all !” 

Her painted face wore a sudden glow of triumph ; 
then her features grew distorted and she fell to the 
floor. 

When Lampton picked her up she was dead. 

They buried her in the churchyard at Folliott Fens, 
beside her murdered husband. 

The body of the real Miss Bermyngham was dis- 


43 ° 


Beatrix Rohan . 


interred, and deposited in the sombre Bermyngham 
vaults among her kindred. Sir Lionel Charlton inher- 
ited the fortune which Lilias Voe had usurped, and 
very soon afterward the young baronet and Beatrix, 
his wife, and Lady Folliott, departed for a lengthened 
tour upon the Continent, to forget, in travel, the terrible 
experiences of the past few months. But they did not 
go until Beatrix had testified her gratitude in various 
ways to all those who had befriended her, including 
faithful, grim Esther, the Trevor Farm housekeeper, 
and poor Jones, the farm-laborer, who had been 
rescued by his fellow-servants on their return from 
Bala. 

Not six months after Beatrix’s happy marriage, she 
heard of the death of the Brands, one of whom was 
killed in a quarrel, and the others, Colonel and Mrs. 
Brand, perishing in a squall upon the Mediterranean. 
But it needed not their deaths to complete her sense of 
security. Guarded by an adoring husband, cherished 
by Lady Folliott, who almost worships her, her life is 
all sweetness and sunshine, all love and charity and 
good works. 


THE END. 


LIDA CAMPBELL, 

OR 

DRAMA OF A LIFE. 

a Noott. 


BY 

JEAN KATE LUDLUM, 

Author of 11 Under Oath,” “ Under a Cloud,” “ John Win - 
throp's Defeat,” etc . 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY H. M. EATON. 


12mo. 351 Pagres. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


This beautiful story was written one year ago. Even then the 
author had premonitory symptoms of the fell disease which so 
recently struck her down in her youth. Her talent was develop- 
ing rapidly, and she promised to become one of the most popular 
writers of the day. “ Lida Campbell, or Drama of a Life,” is a 
novel of the present. Its characters and incidents are familiar, 
and have the strong interest of natural sequence and probability. 
The emotional power which is a marked characteristic of Miss 
Ludlum’s work is strongly wrought out in this novel, and the 
most casual reader cannot fail to be intensely interested in it. 

For sale by ■ _ booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, post- 
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A Fresh Translation from the German. 


DEAR ELSIE 

JTcrocL 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF 

JOHANNES VAN DEWALL, 


BY 

MARY J. SAFFORD, 

Translator of “ Wife and Woman,” “ Little Heather- Blossom ,” 
“ Love Is Lord of All,” “ True Daughter of 
Hartenstein,” etc., etc. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS AND WILSON 
DE MEZA. 

12mo. 336 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


All who have read Miss Safford’s delightful translations from 
the German will welcome “Dear Elsie,” which is one of the 
sweetest and prettiest and most artistic novels from the German 
that we have met with. The characters are quite out of the com- 
mon run, and glimpses are given of high life in Paris, of brilliant 
scenes under the Empire, and of the perils of a youthful heiress 
in the brilliant and corrupt society gathered from all parts of 
Europe by the lavish display of Louis Napoleon’s court at the 
Tuileries. But in German novels, as in German life, honest love 
and simplicity and sincerity of character come out of the crucible 
only purified and strengthened. 

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ZINA’S AWAKI'NG 


21 NodeI. 


BY 

MRS. J. KENT SPENDER. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 


12mo. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. Paper Cover, 

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The story is a study of a girl struggling upward through times 
of stress and darkness to work out her own and her husband’s 
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to a scoundrel, Mrs. Spender has drawn a picture of what would 
appear to make a soul’s resistance against such odds impossible, 
yet the heroine is saved by her art, and reaches light at last. — 
London Newspaper Review. 

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A CAPITAL AMERICAN STORY. 


UNDER A CLOUD. 

BY JEAN KATE LUDLUM, 

Author of “ Under Oath,” etc . 

ILLUSTRATED BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 

12mo. 300 Pages. With Numerous Illustrations. Handsomely 
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from her by her father, is put into relations with her husband 
which are almost uuprecedented. The chain of circumstances 
by which the husband is implicated in a crime and the heroic 
efforts of the wife to traverse this chain and unravel the mystery 
make a history of overpowering interest. 

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THE NORTHERN LIGHT 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF 


E. WERNER, 


BY 

Mrs. D. M. Lowrey. 


12mo. 373 Pag-es. Handsomely Bound in Cloth, Price, $1.00. 
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Since the death of the author of “ Old Ma’mselle’s Secret,” 
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Light ” is one of her most characteristic stories. The heroine is 
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THE IMPROVISATORE ; 

OR, 

LIFE IN ITALY. 


TRANSLATED FROM THE DANISH OF 

Hans Christian Andersen. 

By MARY HOWITT. 

ILLUSTRATED BY HARRY O. EDWARDS. 


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excited has caused it to be read and reread throughout the world. 

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A NEW NOVEL 

By the Popular Author, Mrs. Amelia E. Barr, 
A Cheap Edition: Price, 50 Cents. 


THE BEADS OF TASMER. 

BY 

MRS. AMELIA E. BARR. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 


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landers and Lowlanders ; the deep religious nature of the people ; 
the intense manifestation of these characteristic traits by Scotch 
lovers of high and low degree ; the picturesque life of the coun- 
try, involving the strangest vicissitudes of fortune and the exhibi- 
tion of the most loving and loyal devotion, constitute a theme 
which is of the highest intrinsic interest, and which is developed 
by the accomplished authoress with consummate art and irresist- 
ible power. “ The Beads of Tasmer ” is certainly one of Mrs. 
Barr’s very best works, and we shall be much mistaken if it does 
not take high rank among the most successful novels of the 
century. j 

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MRS. HAROLD STAGG. 


A NOVEL. 


BY 

Robert Grant, 

Author of “Jack Hall,” etc. 



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story is told with the amusing and quiet cleverness which has 
made the author’s reputation, and contains many striking ideas 
which will cause Society’s backbone to creep. Like “ The Anglo- 
maniacs,” it places its heroine under a cross-fire from a wealthy 
swell and a talented youth to fame and fortune unknown — a 
situation which allows Mr. Grant an opportunity to exhibit a 
very interesting and unselfish type of the young American 
woman. In despite of the satire of which Mrs. Harold Stagg is 
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THE COUNTRY DOCTOR 


'A HTooel. 

BY 

HONORE DE BALZAC, 

Author of “ Cesar Birotteau,” 11 The Alchemist,” “ Cousin 
Pons,” “ Eugenie Grandet,” etc., etc . 

Translated from the French by Mrs. Fred. M. Dey. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 

12mo. 350 Pagres. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

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“ The Country Doctor ” is one of Balzac’s greatest creations. 
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study in social science far more valuable than dull treatises and 
histories of social experiments. It is full of human interest and 
feeling and that wonderful realism which makes all of Balzac’s 
works like veritable stories of real life. The heroine is a creature 
of rare beauty and charm. 

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THE CARLETONS 


BY 

Robert Grant, 

Author of “Mrs. Harold Staggf “ Confessions of a Frivolous ( 
Girlf etc. 

ILLUSTRATED BY WILSON DE MEZA. 


12mo. 309 Pag-es. Illustrated. Handsomely Bound in Cloth, 

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In “ The Carletons ” Mr. Grant has given his admirers a fresh 
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transactions, although the story opens in a neighboring suburban 
town. The charm of the story is in the humorous delineation of 
New England family life. The children are interesting, and 
when they grow up into men and women, as they do in the 
progress of the story, they are more interesting and charming, 
and the reader takes a deep and abiding interest in their history 
to the close. Mr. Grant’s amusing and refreshing humor lights 
up every page of the book. 

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LITTLE HEATHER-BLOSSOM 


(ERICA.) 


TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN OF 


FRAU VON INGERSLEBEN, 


BY 

MARY J. SAFFORD. 

WITH ILLUSTRATION 8 BY WARREN B. BA VIS. 


12mo. 470 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 
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This novel is one of the most interesting that has been pub- 
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All admirers of Marlitt will find it a novel to their taste. Miss 
Safford, the translator, who was the first to discover the merit of 
Werner and Heimburg, is very partial to it. Among its salient 
points are a wreck, a runaway, life in a castle on the Rhine, with 
its terraces sloping to the river, balls, entertainments and exqui- 
site character sketches. The heroine is one of the loveliest 
creations of fiction. 

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A LOVE MATCH. 


BY 

Sylvanus Cobb, Jr, 

Author of “ The Gunmaker of Moscow? etc. 

WITH NUMEROUS CHOICE ILLUSTRATIONS BY 0. A. TRAY KB. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. Bound in Cloth, $1.00. 


Everybody recognizes Sylvanus Cobb’s great popularity. We 
offer this explanation : In his stories there is always something 
going on. His characters are never dull. They do not preach 
or philosophize, but act, work, quarrel, fight, make love, and 
keep the reader busy following up the movement in which every- 
thing culminates. “ The Gunmaker of Moscow ” is a constant 
succession of thrilling actions. “ A Love Match ” is a somewhat 
different kind of story, but the action is the main thing in it. 
From the very beginning, it is clear that the author has a story to 
tell of an interesting and original character. The eccentric old 
lady, so rich, reticent and mysterious, takes hold of the mind, 
and when she adopts the waif that is placed at her door, we are 
conscious of the fact that we are caught in a genuine story-teller’s 
toils. 

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An Insignificant Woman 

21 Storg of Artist £ifc. 


BY 

W. Heimburg. 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 


By MARY STUART SMITH. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 

12 mo. Beautifully Illustrated. Handsomely Bound in Cloth, 
Price, $1.00. Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


This is a matchless story. It is a vindication of woman. It 
ends finely, so as to bring out beautifully the glorious character 
of the heroine, the insignificant woman. The combination of 
the artistic and practical in this story makes it peculiarly suited 
to the taste of our times. It is impossible to imagine more 
beautiful and effective lessons of magnanimity and forbearance, 
strength and gentleness, than are inculcated in this novel. 
Every woman who lives for her children, her husband and her 
home will find her heart mirrored in the pages of this fascinating 
story. It is told in a manner that must please all readers, and is 
exquisitely rendered in the translation. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New Vork. 


THE LITTLE COUNTESS 


BY 

E. VON DINCKLAGE, 

TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN 


By S. E. BOGGS. 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 


12mo. 318 Pages. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 

“ The Little Countess” is a delightful novel. It is full of life 
and movement, and, in this respect, is superior to most transla- 
tions from the German. It is distinctly a story to be read for 
pure enjoyment. The little countess belongs to an ancient and 
noble family. She is left an orphan in a lonely old castle, with a 
few servants and pets. Her heroic temper sustains her in every 
trial. The part played by an American girl in the story is very 
amusing, and shows what queer ideas are entertained of American 
women by some German novelists. 

F or sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, Ne* Vork. 


THE CHAUTAUQUANS. 

BY 

JOHN HABBERTON, 

Author of “Helen's Babies etc . 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WARREN B. DAVIS. 


12mo. 351 Pag-es. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.25. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


All interested in the famous Chautauquan reading-circles will 
welcome this novel. All who have been to Chautauqua will rec- 
ognize the perfect truth of the descriptions. The novel is an 
encyclopedia of information about getting up a Chautauqua 
circle. It tells in an amusing way the effect of starting a move- 
ment in a country village, and the enthusiasm which it arouses 
among young and old when once the organization gets into 
working order. Mr. Habberton is a veteran story-teller, and his 
new story is full of interest. There are in it many humorous and 
pathetic situations. The rich variety of characters in a typical 
American village affords the author a great opportunity for intro- 
ducing interesting portraits and sketches. Altogether the book 
is one of the most notable literary achievements which the Chau- 
tauqua movement has brought forth. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New Y)rk. 


A Story of a Strange Disappearance, 


WAS SHE WIFE OR WIDOW ? 

BY 

MALCOLM BELL. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY F. A. CARTER. 


12mo. 318 Pag-es. Handsomely Bound in Cloth. Price, $1.00. 

Paper Cover, 50 Cents. 


It is a most excellent novel, provoking curiosity to the utmost 
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read anything quite like it before. “ Dr. Jeckyll and Mr. Hyde ” 
is not more strange and not more interesting. To enter into the 
plot of the story would not give a correct and adequate idea of 
the author’s conception and the admirable manner in which it is 
worked out. It is as good as one of Gaboriau’s detective stories. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or sent, post- 
paid, on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York. 


EUGENIE GRANDET 


TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF 


Honore De Balzac. 

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY JAMES FAQ AN, 


12mo. Bound in Cloth, $1.00. Paper Cover, 60 Cents. 


“Eugenie Grandet” is one of the greatest of novels. It is the 
history of a good woman. Every student of French is familiar 
with it, and an opportunity is now afforded to read it in a good 
English translation. The lesson of the book is the hideousness 
of the passion of the miser. Eugenie’s father is possessed by it 
in a degree of intensity probably unknown in America, and to 
our public it will come as a revelation. What terrible suffering 
he inflicts upon his family by his ferocious economy and unscru- 
pulousness only Balzac’s matchless narrative could show. The 
beautiful nature of Eugenie shines like a meteor against the black 
background, and her self-sacrifice, her sufferings and her superb 
strength of character are wrought out, and the story brought to a 
climax, with the finest intellectual and literary power and dis- 
crimination. 

For sale by all booksellers and newsdealers, or . nt, postpaid, 
on receipt of price, by the publishers, 

ROBERT BONNER’S SONS, 

Cor. William and Spruce Streets, New York, 


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